Haunt
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: Movieverse. Trevor Goodchild VII encounters a long-lost soul in the park on a lonely afternoon. It's impossible, improbable, but her posture, the set of her mouth, the particular colour of her eyes, is undeniable. How can one deal with the appearance of a ghost? Trevor/Aeon. Set roughly 20 years prior to events of the movie.
1. Chapter 1

**Haunt **

**DISCLAIMER: AEON FLUX ISN'T MINE.**

** I saw an ad for the movie last week, immediately decided I needed to watch it. So I hunted it down, fell in love. And this came forth.**

** Last year I challenge myself to write in as many fandoms as possible. This is a part of that project, so excuse me if I find myself distracted and leave this hanging. It won't be more than maybe 5 chapters long, pretty short and simple. Aeon isn't a big fandom on here, so I don't expect much of a reaction, but that's perfectly okay with me. This is written to satisfy my own whims. **

** Probably AU, as it is a major plot change in the grand scheme of the movie. Never seen the show, so no references there. **

**Trevor/Aeon, movieverse.**

**-XXX-**

The second he saw her there, splashing in the fountain in the middle of the public park with another dark-haired girl just a few years younger, he knew. "_Of course,"_ Trevor Goodchild acknowledged, "_it was no certainty." _There would be no way to know. And it simply could not be her. Impossible. Improbable.

Yet…

All of the features combined…oh, she was…. So, so close. It wasn't the face, or the eyes, or even the sharp and humored lines of her mouth. Her stance, a firm and fluid posture, was identical to the woman's who haunted his dreaming. Katherine had shown him a few childhood photos with him those 400 years ago- - - that certainly helped the recognition. Closing his eyes, Trevor let memories flood his senses.

Like a home movie, the scenes ran through his mind. Their meeting- - - _"Will I see you again?" _ Late nights reading. The ceremony, his wife dressed in white. Hours and hours of just talking as the sun passed through the windows of their home. Dancing in the kitchen, both doubled over with painful chuckles. Dabbing his forehead with a wet cloth when he contracted the flu only a few months after they had met. Hands on her hips, viewing her plainly burnt attempt at...well, some sort of dinner. Watching her across the room, stretching as she settled into bed. Kissing her eyelids, coaxing her awake sweetly. Painting the walls of their, _their _new apartment a buttery yellow. The university galas, Katherine in a slinky gold evening gown, raising a crystal flute to her husband's success, laughing. Laughing as she was now.

He could not be sure, of course, if it was truly her. At least, not until she grew into more defined features. Which might be a while yet. Observing her snub of a nose and plump limbs, Trevor estimated her age to be somewhere around five to seven years old. Practically an infant. Nearly fifteen years his junior, then.

"_Young."_

The chairman swallowed. If it were true, she was so, so young,

For nearly 400 years, the Trevor Goodchild line had been celebate. There had been wives a few times, yes, but these women were illusions used to explain away the birth of each generation's next set of heirs. Women of flesh and blood, they were vessels, surrogates, actors, simple and loving women who raised the pair of boys until they were young men ready to assume responsibilities. But not a one performed wifely duties beyond that. Each Trevor was too haunted by a foreign dedication to a women they'd never met; love, relationships were simply impossible.

The seven generations had never bore children beyond the two clones, either. There had never been any purpose to.

But now, looking at the collection of babes and toddlers, Trevor had an irrational desire to…to….

"_To what?"_

Be a father? He'd only ever fathered himself. As of right now, the sixty-five-year-old Trevor was currently the sixth generation clone mentoring a twenty-year-old Trevor. Old Trevor was all too ready to pass on his chairmanship to his young counterpart-in five year's time. He had father himself to the best of his ability. This time, Oren and Trevor the Seventh were nephews of the chairman, Oren's sons.

After Trevor-the-younger assumed chairmanship his predecessor would retire to a small corner of Bregna, presumably continue his research, perhaps take up gardening. And, then, he would die peacefully at the approximate age of seventy-seven. As all the others had. As he, Trevor the Seventh would.

Five years from now, that little girl- - -_"Not Katherine," _he told himself, _"Not Katherine, Oren said it was impossible…" - - _-would be an almost-teenager, perhaps. He would be twenty-five. Still too young to be a father. The Trevor line, his next generation, would not begin until he was at least 40, possibly older.

But five years…fifteen years…

He would know her. He must.

Twenty minutes of observation, it was unmistakable. Or, perhaps, his imaginings of particular features were being fed by his hope. Maybe he was projecting. Imagining what wasn't there.

Trevor found he didn't entirely care.

Somehow, he would known her. He would visit the old man in The Relicle, check the records. Oren had to have been wrong. There was no other way around it. He, Trevor, was a scientist. DNA can be saved. He'd said it was corruptible, but how? How could Katherine's have been destroyed? Might it have been possible for the old man to have saved _something_?

He did not care. Not now. He would find out later. Trevor merely wanted to absorb the quite realization of his wife's recovery.

In the park's fountain, the child slashed her sister. The younger girl shrieked with laughter, then rushed to chase her sibling. They ran and laughed and splashed, soaking up the sunlight like tiny daises. A ways away, a couple watched the children with reserved smiles. _"Parents?" _They looked older. Perhaps the girls were late-in-life "gifts?" It was not unheard of.

He did not exactly know how he was going to find her again. "_Come back to the park,_" he supposed. Best not to alert old Trevor to the possibility. He daren't share his discovery. There would be no telling in his reaction. They might share the same mind, same genetic coding, but Trevor-the-younger wasn't that insightful. Not yet. So, he would not tell his elder of this discovery. No, he would come back, day after day, until…until….

"Aeon, Una!"

The babes, like a pair of startled kittens, paused to stare ahead, their tussle paused.

"Time to go," the woman said gently, extending a hand.

Together, the children rushed forward. The younger was swept into her mother's open arms. Katherine-_"Aeon,"-_was lifted carefully to her father's shoulders.

Come back? No, he's have no need now. He could insert her name into the database, keep a constant stream of her activity, watch her. Now Trevor would observe her from afar. No need to disrupt her life. Not now, anyways.

"Careful, Aeon," the man warned as his daughter wriggled from her post.

Thinking back to his Latin studies, Trevor smiled. _Aeon. Life. _It suited her, suited her well.

**Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, to be noted in this chapter:**

**The movie's universe is pretty vague about the name of things, the set-up of the government. So I've had to extend my own creativity to fill these gaps. Sorry if I messed anything up. **

**Quick note: Doing the math of the actor's age, there actual age difference would be more around 10 years, but I like 15 years better in the idea of where this story is going. **

**-XXX-**

With a name, she was relatively easy to track. No one else in Bregna went by Aeon—it was an uncommon, ancient name. Therefore, it took him very little time to establish a pin.

Once he put a track on her name, Trevor Goodchild knew _everything. _From boring the trolleys to visiting Bregna's Goodchild Gardens, shopping in the marketplace with her mother, visiting the theater, he could see her every motion, every activity. The city was practically wired; it would be difficult for a person to pass unnoticed by the cameras. People were rarely out of the view of video feed. But that was the cost of safety. Trevor was thankful to pay it-as even he was never free from the glass glare of a camera lens.

For days he stayed in his study, watching her move through the city. She skipped and ran, laughed, teased her sister. She wasn't sunlight assumed in a human form, not quite; there was an edge about her, something rebellious. The child enchanted him. Aeon was too close to brightness to be ignored. And he dearly, dearly wished to know her.

Over the weeks, he developed a plan. It was simple. Foolproof. The plan require a lot of waiting, years worth, in fact. He would linger on the background of her childhood until she was a young woman-eighteen, perhaps. Then, the chairmen would send members of his staff to the schools, search for some intern, or another menial job. Naturally, Aeon would be selected. She would be in his presence every day, and then…and then….

Well, then he wasn't sure what. Things would, he hoped, naturally progress from there.

When Aeon became a distraction, Trevor enlisted Freya to keep tabs on the child. As future chairman, he needed to focus on his research, improving the city, things of that nature. While he thorough enjoyed watching Aeon, he acknowledged it as reasonably unhealthy to dwell. His behavior would help no one. He must move on. After all, a great wait lay before him. A decade, or more.

Freya set about a careful record of the child's life, to be presented every month or so to her employer, keeping him updated. The assistant grew to anticipate the expression on her employer's face once the file was produced the last day of every month. Something like a mix of apprehension, relaxation, and dreamy delight. Freya first noticed this about the third time she gave him the file. It grew to be a highlight, something to muse and smile over in the less pleasant moments of her job.

**-XXX-**

Then everything changed.

Before it had been a…challenge. A sort of self-inflicted torture knowing he was to be left watching. Never approaching, never speaking. Just watching. He didn't like it, but that was how things were to go.

And then, then came the accident, the first in several decades. The city was in an uproar; accidents simply didn't happen in Bregna. A trolley's system went off line-old wiring-and collided with the wall of one tunnel after the tracks were demagnetized. The wall stood with a single black scrape, but eight died in the collision. Including Adrina and Horace Flux, leaving two orphans girls in their wake.

The council blamed Monicans. Trevor wasn't ready to blame anyone. It had been a mistake, a careless custodial error. Things happened occasionally, and they couldn't be avoided.

But his focus was on the survivors. Namely, two.

Una and Aeon had been on the trolley when it crashed. They were, luckily, seated on the opposite side of the collision, directly across from their parents. In the footage from the on-board camera, Trevor watched them bounce on the white leather, grins wide, fiddling with the hems of their skirts, giggling. It was a special day-Adrina's birthday, according to the records. They had been going out to dinner. Una wore a purple ribbon in her hair, Aeon new boots.

It made him sick to watch that footage. Ill to see the children plummet forward after the screech of metal against concrete broke the mild buzz of conversation, to observe the tumbling figures, hear the screams of desperate souls as the cool white lights flickered in and out. And then-silence. Darkness.

Something needed to be done. Trevor did not want to see this "as his chance," but he knew the girls had nothing. No other family. No one to take them in. It would be a good show, to his city, if he were to adopt the orphans. What a kind and caring leader would he be, they would all be so touched by his kindness. The Goodchild line was small, almost suspiciously so. It couldn't hurt.

He spoke to his elder-self. Trevor-the-elder listened politely as his younger self made the request, citing vague personal connections.

"Raising children is…no picnic," he warned. "Nothing to take lightly, Septimus."

All Trevors were addressed by their numbers among their elders. Once chairman, they were hence referred to as "the" Trevor.

"I know," he said honestly, head inclined. He was tense. "But I cannot help but feel as though it is necessary. They have no one."

Trevor-the-elder considered for a long time. He saw no harm in allowing the young man the responsibility, but that was part of the problem. Responsibility. He couldn't allow these children if he thought they might distract his young counterpart from his work. The research was important. Any distraction could prove fatal to their progress.

_"Then again…."_

Seven generations of this, perhaps he did deserve some distraction. Besides, what harm could they do?

"Well, after considering all aspects…I shall consent. You are respectable, there is no reason why you should not be a good father. I give you leave."

"Thank you, sir," Trevor-the-younger relaxed significantly.

The next day, the pair was delivered to the capitol's nursery. Trevor had not been in the apartments since he was a child. Standing in the middle of the room, he felt impossibly large in comparison to the tiny chairs, the stout beds, and multitude of plush toys. He came an hour before their scheduled arrival to ensure all was ready for them. A nurse was installed, the same woman who cared for himself and Oren ages ago. Nanny, as they called her, was already set about the room, dusty bookshelves and straightening curtains. He watched her fuss for a while, amused set to his mouth, before stepping forward to offer assistance. But the old woman waved him off, shaking her dusting rag at him.

"I've got it, I've got it," she chuckled. "Done this thirty years enough. Besides, young man, haven't you better things to do, besides scurry after your old nurse, hm? Preparing for the young ladies, perhaps?" Nanny gestured to his simple attire. Trevor had forgone the pomp and circumstance today, wearing a simple cotton shirt and trousers, and his usual plain grey jacket with the high mandarin collar.

Trevor blinked. "Ah, I do not wish to overwhelm them."

Nanny nodded wisely, approving.

They waited. When the door opened, revealing two stout children clinging to the hands of a tall blonde woman, Trevor rose eagerly, surging upon them. The children shrank back against the woman's skirt. He slowed, stooping to their level. The woman, an employee of the social services unit, gently pushed the girls forward toward the future chairman.

Una turned away, biting her lip. She was probably no more than four years old, small, with bird-like eyes and limbs. Detached from the woman, she cowered against her sister, trembling. She intrigued Trevor. He dearly wished to make her comfortable.

Aeon was braver. She seemed to physically wrap around Una, a shield of sorts. Green-blue eyes stared, defiant and worrisome, upwards to meet Trevor's gaze fully. She was scared, but more protective than anything. The shoulder-length blue-black hair glistened in midmorning light. Like Una, she wore a loose shift and skirt, hers a jade colour in contrast to Una's rosier set. Her gaze flicked from him to Nanny to the windows as he spoke with the social services worker. _"Resourceful? Looking for an out?" _He had a keen sense that out of the two, Aeon was going the handful. She looked troublesome.

Before the social services woman left, it was time for introductions. Trevor stooped in front of the pair, doing his best to appear gentle, fatherly, kind.

"Hello, Una, Aeon," his gaze lingered over both of them for several seconds. "Welcome to the capitol."

There was a pause. Neither child spoke, merely stared blankly, as though dazed. Which, now that he thought of it, they probably were. He certainly would have been if his parents had died, then he was moved to live in the capitol of the city, all in less than the course of a week. Trevor tried again.

"I very much hope you will like it here. I've got Nanny here, to watch after you, and…and…." He looked to the old nurse. She did a roundabout gesture to the room. "This will be your quarters."

Una tilted her head. He modified his statement, saying quickly. "Your rooms."

Trevor swallowed. "I want you to be happy here. This is where you'll live, from now on. There will be many people here to help you, so never hesitate-er, worry-about asking for anything."

The elder sister blinked, tugging Una closer. Nanny stepped forward.

"Hello dearies. My, someone looks sleepy." It was true, Trevor noted. Una looked dead on her feet, and Aeon little better. Nanny swept forward to take the children's hands. "But first, some lunch, I think."

They moved passed, toward the center of the play room. The blonde woman excused herself, smiling briefly at the children.

Nanny had them seated at the small tea-table, and was feeding them sandwiches and juice. The younger appeared moderate at-ease, but still wide-eyed. Small fingers pulled at the hems of her shift. With wispy dark hair she looked fairly bird-like. Aeon was tense. A small cat, ready to dart away at any sign of danger. She eyed Nanny as the woman sipped tea. Trevor she completely ignored, apparently deciding he was no threat. They ate in silence.

For a time, he watched them, uncertain. He wanted to explain more, tell them to not be afraid, show them their new world, new life. But Nanny clearly thought them overwhelmed and tired. The old woman shooed him away after a half-hour, insisting that the babes needed rest. So, he slunk away, prepared to come back another day.

Walking through the stark white halls, Trevor realized he'd never quite explained to the girls who he was. _"Well," _he reasoned. "_Best leave that to Nanny, anyways." _


	3. Chapter 3

"Uncle Trevor!"

He knew, later, that perhaps leaving the titlement of himself to the girl's nurse was not his greatest idea. Being reduced to "uncle" (_"Much better than father," _he kept telling himself) was not the worst of fates. Yet, he'd prefer not to establish imaginary relationships if it could be helped. Which, now, it couldn't.

Four years since that morn had passed. Ten-year-old Aeon and eight-year-old Una were healthy, reasonably happy children that had adapted to a drastic social climb well. He attributed their graceful acclimation to their youth. He was always reminding himself of their youth-especially when it came to Una. The girl was wise beyond her years. Those wide eyes spoke of decades of insight, rather than a mere 8 years of living. She was quieter, observant. A good second to Aeon.

Aeon was a challenge. She had a natural tendency toward rebellion, independence. Life in the capitol did not suit those tendencies. The girl was constantly getting caught in restricted areas, forever being punished for her elaborate escapes. She wore on Nanny, who took her charge's defiance in stride. For all of her mischief, the residents of the capitol loved Aeon.

Save for one person. Oren, always in the background, whispered of the girl's wilder nature being the downfall of the Goodchild respectability. She would give the Monicans fuel against them. What if she were turned away from the government to sympathize with those rebel insurgents? What then? She was weak-willed, young….

Trevor would merely look at his brother with cool eyes. "She's ten."

"Exactly! At the foothold of adulthood. Easily manipulated. You watch her company, Trevor. Or, better yet-"

The young man tuned out his brother's suggestion, closing his eyes. It was always the same-

"-let her go. There are better families then two old men and a pair of young ones. She's not the sort for walls and windows, anyways. It would be for the best, brother."

"Best for who?" Trevor always asked, brows rising. "Because I could not imagine her being better off anywhere else. Here she is protected. Safe. Out of the Monican's reach."

Oren never had a response.

There complaints were almost exclusively against Aeon. Una was out of his distaste-Oren _liked_ Una, and she him. Trevor could only hope, as the years moved on, that she might sway his brother towards a kinder feeling toward Aeon as well. But, he reflected, that was already proving difficult.

He loved her. Truly. But even he could be drained by her energy, her fierce independence. Desperately, he sought to keep her in their capitol walls, to convince her of her fortune. He would do anything to keep her here, prevent her from leaving him again.

"Uncle Trevor!"

He finally looked up from his paperwork. Aeon and Una stood in the threshold of his study, bouncing. Una curled away shyly from his gaze, but Aeon meet it sharply, her own bright eyes flashing.

"Yes, ladies?"

Una giggled. "We want you to come outside."

"Play with us," Aeon commanded. "Nanny says she needs to rest, and the cherry blossoms are blooming."

Bemused, Trevor leaned back in his chair. "And what does that mean?"

"Springtime!" Una shouted, gleeful. "It means festivals, and dancing, and flowers, and…oh, you must take us to the park!"

"But we have a perfectly nice garden here," Trevor said in mock offensive. "And you have your very own courtyards. The park? No, no, my dears, not today. Wouldn't you prefer to stay in…and read?"

Both children made a face. That was enough of an answer for him. He chuckled slowly.

"Oh, I don't know. Aeon hasn't been good of late…if we let her out, will she stay with us?" he asked Una ina conspiratorial tone. It was true. Just last week she had been caught scaling the walls of the meditation garden, and only two days ago she had broken the stems of all of the fresh-cut flowers in Oren's apartments (how she had even gotten in there, Trevor had no notion), and then yesterday she had been fairly rude to her grandfather, the elder Trevor. The old man was taken aback, true, but no more than usual.

Trevor only had eight months left before he assumed the position of chairman. His elder counterpart was slowly releasing more and more responsibility as the weeks passed. It was gratifying, to finally accept the duty he'd been bound for, but at the same time strangely depressing. He hadn't seen the girls in ages, not for anything like a trip to the park, anyways. True, he'd always been carefully distant from their lives, absent enough to be missed. All discipline was issued out by Nanny, unless it was something truly severe (such as breaking into Oren's apartments).

He didn't feel ready. He wasn't sure he ever would. Trevor, all seven of them, had been men of science, not leadership. He had not asked for this, it had been thrust upon him. Looking now upon these children, Trevor was certain he was no better adept at raising a pair of girls than he would be to lead a city. But, as Nanny assured him, he'd have help along the way. Besides, he had not done such a bad job so far.

"The park then," he confirmed. "Let me change. And Aeon," he said sternly as the girls flew from the doorway. "Please, let's wear something…appropriate."

At ten, she loved boots, especially those appropriate for state events, not walks in the park. Scowling, the child nodded, running after her sister, dark hair rippling in the springtime sun.

The trip was not so horrible. Una fed the birds, letting them surround her as she giggled madly. She only cried when they pecked her, but Trevor easily soothed her with a few pats on the back and reassurance of the bird's apology-he could, after all speak bird. What uncle couldn't?

Being an uncle was an occupation Trevor could honestly enjoy. The wonderment found in children thrilled him. Even with Aeon's difficulties, he loved being a parental figure. He loved the girls, even in their silliness. Hopefully, this experience would help him in rearing the next generation of clones. Unless, that is, he could solve their infertility issue.

Four hundred years. Seven generations. Surely he could do it. Surely. And then, maybe he might one day be peering into the crib of his own child, a creation of flesh and blood, the combination of twenty-three different pairs of chromosomes. Not the result of a test tube. Not a carbon copy. An entirely new person.

He would like that a great deal.

Aeon was drawn to the trees that lined the walkways. More than once he lost sight of her, too focused on Una's sweetness, distracted by her gentle coos to the pigeons, only to find the elder sister balancing on the low brick walls that comprised of planters. The last time he spotted her scrambling up the limbs of a skinny birch. At first he was thrown in shock, then he stood quickly to run to the tree, stripping off his coat and climbing up after the child. He earned a few scrapes and bruises, but managed to pull the hellcat from her limb and carry her back down entirely unscathed.

By then a small crowd had gather, partaking of the usual gasping and "_Dear Gods" _that typically accompanied such circumstances. Upon seeing the girl's survival through there was a round of applause. All were too busy to note her rescuer, to Trevor's great relief.

Once the crowd had dissipated, he rounded on his adoptive child, eyes burning.

"You might've been killed," he hissed. "What were you thinking, Aeon?"

"I wanted to climb," the child pouted. "To see things."

Trevor threw a palm up to his forehead. "Are you trying to scare me? Trying to frighten me to my death? Aeon,that was extremely dangerous."

"I was just climbin-"

"No, no," he held up a hand. "Don't say that again. You were just _not thinking_. What if you had fallen? What would I have done then?"

It was not an easily answered question. So the girl shrugged.

"I would've been very upset," he assured her. "Very, _very _upset. I wouldn't have known what to have done with myself. Do you understand, Aeon?"

"More upset than you are now?" Aeon whispered. He held her by her slim shoulders. Sliding his hands down her arms to her tiny hands, bowing his head and shaking it, the young man smiled softly.

"A different kind of upset. More sad than angry. If anything were to happen….You are my life," Trevor finally said softly. "You and Una. To see you hurt would break me."

Aeon bit her lip. "Ah, I'm sorry."

The future chairman visibly relaxed. "I am, too."

When they returned to the capitol, Trevor instantly summoned the city's renown gymnast, engaging him for lessons. Primarily for Aeon, perhaps Una if she so desired. But he had a feeling the younger would not be nearly as interested in the physical activities, so he called upon the horticultural head to schedule visits there once a week for the younger girl. There was a young fellow working there, Claudius, who could be a good friend to her. They needed to socialize more. He would make that note to Nanny. She would appreciate the few hours off, anyways.

Today he had been so scared. If something had happened, if Aeon were to get hurt…he'd never be able to forgive himself. Is this what fatherhood was? Worry? Fear?

There were worse lots in life, that was certain. If he had the choice, Trevor would probably choose the worrisome venture of raising two little girls rather than lead a small nation in a post-apocalyptic world. However, he was left with both tasks. Which suited him well enough.

**Though there has been absolutely no reaction to this, I've enjoyed writing this a lot. Up to chapter 5 now. The psychology is pretty intense. So far the plan is to go back to the canon plot line, incorporating elements of the past with the movie. Hope you've enjoyed. **


	4. Chapter 4

At fifteen years of age, Aeon was just as strong-willed as she was at 10. A fierce young woman, she was the nightmare of most tutors and the godsend to most martial arts instructors. She had assumed gymnastics and other physical arts readily, taking up masterships as quickly as she could, making a collection of belts, medals, and other such honors. Even sour Oren admitted to being impressed. Her uncle Trevor was proud, and exceedingly glad to have found an outlet into which her energies could be directed and focused. She still climbed trees, scaled walls, balanced on the stucco edges of the flat-topped capitol roof, but at least now he could feel a little better about it. She was trained; she was secure.

Her domineering nature was strong as ever, but had grown to be less annoying and more charming. If her tutors could comment on anything, it was her grace in leadership, her firm ability to direct the attentions of a room. Truth be told, Trevor didn't know where these skills were going to be of use-would she leave, get a career, a life, once she was old enough?-but he was glad that she had _something._

Una, the shy and soft thirteen-year-old, quickly took to the greenhouses, and to Claudius. They were often together, hands filthy with soil, speaking in low, rushed voices. The apartment the girls shared was brimming with potted plants. Aeon often said that they needn't ever leave, they got enough fresh air from the foliage Una brought home like stray cats. She mended them, tended to their wounds, tamed them, then sent them on their way to new homes. With a true green thumb, she just had a way with the flora.

By this time Trevor had been chairman for nearly five years. His elder counterpart was living in the industrial part of Bregna. The man took up knitting, cooking, and visited very rarely. But Trevor had little time to note this- - -he suddenly found himself very, very busy.

There was, quite suddenly, little time for anything but work and papers and meetings and speeches. He made a point to always see the girls, though, dinner nearly every night, trips on the weekends. Occasionally, Aeon attended some function of state with him, dressed neatly and nicely in a modest blue dress with piles of her long, wavy hair on top of her head. Una was still too young to partake, which was a pity, as he assumed she would enjoy these galas and parties far more than her sister did.

Aeon disliked parties almost as much as she hated her thick curtain of blue-black hair. Time and time again she would insist on short, cropped styles; this was one of the only things Trevor could refuse her. He adored the raven locks. Her hair was just another reflection of Katherine. It was long, to her waist, wavy and smooth, nearly silk. One thing Trevor had picked up as their comfort around one another had increased was stroking the black satin ripples when he was pensive. This was one of those surprising things that Aeon didn't mind. She would sit stalk-still for several minutes has he tentatively began, then sink into a relaxed pose, letting herself be overcome with a dazed unwinding. Again, much like a cat. He was completely charmed with this, though he would never let her know it.

There relationship was always evolving. Trevor tried to find some balance between friend and uncle, maintaining a shred of hope that she might one day find something more in him. That she might come to him as Katherine.

It was unlikely.

But he held on to it, a small ember of glowing orange hope. Even if she never saw him as anything more than a father-figure, he was honored to know her, to have been part of her life. It was something, at least.

That was what he kept telling himself.

She was so young. At times, the fourteen years between them felt like nothing. Then, other times, he's look at her and realize just how far away she was from his perspective. He was twenty-nine. Aeon, fifteen, was still a child. And she would be for a while still. Every time this thought unsettled him. As much as Trevor enjoyed playing parental figure, he wanted _more._ Not in any physical sense, necessarily, but simply to connect in a manner befitting husband and wife, to be intellectually and emotionally on that level again. Una he could have as his niece or daughter, but Aeon was never destined for that. He had gone into this with a goal: making her his. And, in a way, he had. Just, not in the way he'd wanted.

Trevor-the-elder had left him the photo, in the lab beneath his quarters. Every so often, he would pull it out, letting his eyes trace the gentle curve of her neck, the slight quirk of her lips. It amazed him how every year she grew just a little more into Katherine, with absolutely no deviation from the original. Clones did that, occasionally. The eye colour would alter, someone would come out a bit shorter, or the texture of hair change. Little things. Alleles mixing things up.

But not with her. No, Aeon was an exact model.

**-XXX-**

When the girls were fourteen and twelve respectively, he decided it was high time to get them proper apartments. He plucked them from the nursery (which had, needless to say, adapted as they had over the years with bigger beds and furniture) to allow them a free run of the household. They had free selection of any of the staterooms or apartments. Trevor further promised to remodel any rooms of their choosing.

Una picked a series of spacious rooms that overlooked the courtyards. She requested new tiles for the bathroom, so he ordered her a flower mosaic. The walls were to be painted varying shades of green, yellow, and pink. Furniture with airy cushions and cool whites were selected. The girl was very excited with the prospect of her own room.

The elder sister selected a smaller compartment, which was tucked in the corner of the house, and had windows to both the courtyard and the city. The rooms were very light, practically filled throughout the day with brightness. Her bed was a shelf, cut into the wall, surrounded by a curtain of glass beads which tinkled faintly when brushed. For a gymnast, it was not much room, but she did not seem to mind; there were much grander, larger, nice apartments he had offered, but she refused them all. Surprising him, as always. He supposed the smallness made her feel safe.

Aeon had few requests-an armchair, some curtains, a new coat of paint, a few lamps. There was not much she needed nor wanted. She was a hall or two away from Una (close enough for safety), and miles from Oren (which was not surprising) and a stunningly close distance from Uncle Trevor. She had everything she needed.

In the process of improving the rooms, Trevor was exceptionally busy. The council was in an uproar over some city ordinance regarding the cameras, so he spent a lot of time composing letters or hosting meetings. Besides that there were always the Monicans, stirring up trouble.

He kept word of the Monicans away from his girls. No need to scare them. But he could never seal all the cracks, so a day did come when someone became curious. Unfortunately, one of those days came in the midst of the bustle of camera ordinances.

Aeon, now fifteen, had requested an audience in the middle of the day. Trevor sent Freya to fend her off, passing on a polite message that he would see to her in a few days-right now he was quite busy, thank you, and he would not be having dinner with them this week. If it was any emergency, she could see Uncle Oren (and she wouldn't, lest it was a true emergency, and even then she would probably much rather wait her other uncle out).

A day passed, and then he found her in his bedroom.

It was late. He'd just finished and excruciatingly dull supper with Councilman Rahana (who was about Trevor-the-elder's age, and twice as stern). When arriving at his apartments to find the lights on he thought nothing of it-a maid coming and going in the night was not unusual-and he crossed to the small bar against the wall, pouring himself water from the carafe. Then he went to his closet, set about undressing, when he heard a small sound.

Whipping around, he scanned the room, gaze closing in on the figure sitting in the shadows, legs curled in on the bench that lined the windows, eyes flickering. She had been asleep, waiting up for him. Trevor stared, uncertain. As Aeon stretched he continued to remove his jacket and shoes, half-facing her, but left on his trousers and shirt.

Quiet, he crossed the room. "Are you alright?"

Weary, the teenager nodded.

"Very well, may I?" he gestured to his attire. Again she nodded. He returned to the closet and rustled about for a while, selecting a pair of simple cotton drawstring pants, and a loose silk button-down. When he reentered, dressed comfortably, Aeon was sitting up properly.

She examined the room. He remembered then that she had never actually been in his bedroom before. The warm wood tones, the rice-paper lanterns, large circular windows with thin shutters, the Japanese crane mural against the circular wall, it was all new to her. She seemed to absorb the scene. Trevor was silent, allowing her time while he observed her.

He had not the slightest clue why she came to him. After sometime, he spoke softly. "What is it, Aeon?"

The girl glanced up, eyes focusing swiftly. "I…can we go for a walk? Please?"

With a short nod, he entertained her request. When she rose, he noted her attire-very similar to his, a loose pair of cropped linen trousers and a pleated poet's shirt. She was barefoot, and stepped lightly, weaving her stride. They moved from his room to the balcony walkway over the pool. Almost a moat, it circled his separated apartment. Lily pads floated on the glassy-smooth surface. But no flowers. It wasn't in season.

For a while they walked quietly, the sweet evening breeze their only other companion. Trevor did not dare speak, only braved a glance every so often. Finally his young charge began.

"I've been trying to see you for a few days."

"I know."

"We've missed you," she continued. "Una especially."

This was clearly a lie. Out of the brothers, Una preferred Oren. He supposed they could sympathize, being the younger siblings to two powerful forces such as Aeon and himself.

"I am sorry, Aeon. You know my work occupies much of my time. I would be present more, if I had the ability."

She said, disgruntled, "You work too much."

"It's a hazard of the job." He replied, amused. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

There was a pause. "Last week we went to the marketplace with Nanny and Claudius," this was nothing new, they often visited market, or the parks. "And there were people talking. About you."

He had always dreaded this; politics. Even though they lived in the capitol, the girls had been heavily shielded from the toils of politics. Trevor always feared their exposure outside of the capitol walls to the philosophies of those less inclined toward governmental control. He did not want to sway the girls from the Bregna way of life, but neither did he wish to keep them under any illusions. The chairman still held out hope of curing the infertility, returning society to its natural course.

"And what did they say?" he asked cautiously.

Aeon would not meet his eye. "Things I don't want to think about. People disappearing…medical tests…and…and…" she took a breath. "What are Monicans?"

The chairman let the question hang, heavy, in the air as he composed himself, closing his eyes and drawing in strength. Aeon waited.

"Monicans are a rebellious fraction of Bregna. They do not believe in our legitimacy as a governmental organization, yet they take advantage of all we offer. They would see us burned or driven out, and then they would dissolve the organization, the city, and have us all live out there," he indicated the world that lay beyond Bregna's white walls. "To starve and die, rather than live under the rule of anyone. Those are the Monicans. They oppose me, us, and would stop at nothing to see us obliterated."

"But why?" Aeon asked softly.

Trevor shrugged loosely, leaning against one column, sighing. "Who knows? Why does anyone rebel. They don't like the way this city is run, but they will not run for council, nor will they speak up, face-to-face. They hide in the shadows, sabotage our communications and our constructions, cowards that they are."

"And the tests? The people vanishing?"

Again he sighed. "We can never live in a perfect world, Aeon. Crime still occurs. There will be runaways. People still get sick, we still need to help them. Progress can only occur if it is wanted. Tests must happen."

She nodded slowly, considering. "Is that why they're mad? Why they hate you?"

"I cannot say. It could be part of it. But to know the answer to that you would have to speak to a Monican. And they are not easy to find."

"Are you trying to find them?" Aeon tilted her head.

"Yes," he said. "In a way."

They walked on. Aeon musing, Trevor watching the skies.

He wanted to know what was running through her head. If he could have any wish granted (save the return of his wife), he would ask to know her thoughts. If only to see what she thought of the situation.

Abruptly, Aeon spoke again. "I've been having dreams."

"Oh?" This was not surprising; everyone in Bregna had nighttime visions of their lives before. Even he. "What of?"

"Me," she whispered. "I'm older. A lot older. And, it's…it's like…everything is so blurry. There is a figure. Someone I want to see. And I keep running and running, trying to get to them but every time...I fail."

He listened politely, then suggested a blend of chamomile before bed. "Which is where you ought to be now."

Aeon blinked. "Must I? I'd much rather stay here, talking to you."

The chuckle was forced. "No, my dear, you have your own bed. It shall be far more comfortable in your room-"

"Why can't I just sleep in here with you?"

He froze. The request was made innocently enough. But the implications….if anyone were to know….

"Bed, Aeon," he said firmly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"For breakfast?"

Trevor relaxed slightly. "Yes. Of course."

With that, she departed. Content in his shielding of her honor, Trevor went to bed, sinking into the cool pillows, thankful of his second chances, and trying very, very hard not to think of her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Getting to a vital point...things are a-changing...people growing up...**

**Enjoy!**

**-XXX-**

Trevor took to chairmanship as he always had: with grace, dignity, and a strained patience. He was on the brink of a cure. However, keeping the council in order, avoiding Monican infiltration, and raising a pair of teenage girls could (and often did) distract him from his work. The girls, at least, he did not mind nearly as much. They were a pleasant distraction. After nine years in his position, he still felt ill-at-ease in his seat as head of the council. The formal niceties were resented, as were the petty disputes. But it was the burden of leading Bregna. He took it in stride.

When Aeon was nineteen, he decided it was time to do something. She was too old for tutors, bored with her martial arts instruction. This left her to antagonize Oren or lord over Una. The younger girl was still left with education, and could not always escape to the greenhouses and Claudius. Aeon was become something of a terror. She needed distraction as much as he wished to rid himself of it. Trevor was at a slight loss as to what to do. As always, Nanny offered insight.

"She's a mite clever. Send her to the library. She'll hate it, but that will provide her with something for the time being," the old woman advised. "Keep her from trouble. She wants to go, Trevor, you see that as well as I. If you want to keep her here, if you want her in the capitol, you'll need to provide better incentives soon. But this shall hold her for now."

"Is Una not enough?" Trevor disliked using the younger girl so, but it was true that she was one of the biggest reasons Aeon kept her head down when it came to her restlessness.

Nanny simply gave him a look-_"Oh, please, now,"-_which was enough to convince him.

So, he summoned his charge. She slunk into his study, eyes dark, hair plaited. Even now she complained about the miles of waves, but he left her with the strictest orders to leave the length alone. Every inch of her appeared Katherine. He held his breath.

"You're in need of an activity," he remarked, not looking up from his stack of papers. "The capitol librarian seeks someone to help him organize the censuses. What do you say?"

No, naturally. But then he explained the terms-it was either the library or acting as Oren's aid while his assistance was on vacation for the month. She swiftly changed her mind.

**-XXX-**

Aeon was surprised to find herself enchanted with the library. The work was mind-achingly dull, but the splendor of the place itself was enough to convince her to stay on. Master Librarian, a small, bouncy fellow who oversaw the building, was kind and good. He kept her on organizing the stacks and stacks of scrolls and books, finding them homes in the new shelves. It was not entertaining by any means.

Her favourite place was the room of scrolls, where older manuscripts lived. The walls were lined with honeycomb-selves, which were shaped in octagons and went all the way up to the ceiling. This left her to climbing the brass ladder, absorbing the sunlight from the circular skylight above.

For several weeks Aeon worked in the library. And then, quite suddenly, Master Librarian had nothing left for her to do. She hung about the building before finally slinking back to Trevor, praying Oren's assistant was back.

Trevor listened to her explanation with an impassive expression. She waited beside his desk, nervous as he considered.

"This leaves us with a problem. I cannot leave you without a task, Aeon," he eyed her, amused. "It's not your nature for it. You need activity."

"Then what?" she raised her hands, exasperated. "If you would let me go out, I am sure there is something outside of the capitol-"

"No." He was firm. The library had been a stretch for him, on the very outskirts of the capitol. He was not about to let her leave the capitol on a daily basis. "You'll stay here. Work for me, Aeon."

"You already have Freya," the teenager frowned. "Why would you need me?"

"Freya handles my schedule. Planning. She could always use a hand, and cannot always come with me to council meeting. You can fill in her place."

Again, Aeon was issued with another task she did not want. But Trevor was not going to let her out of it. Reluctant, she accepted the position.

**-XXX-**

She attended council meetings, took notes, fetched tea, listened to speeches. The speeches were probably her favourite. Trevor practiced in the underground theater, a beautiful place. Aeon would sit in the velvet-upholstered seats, tracing patterns in the fabric, head tilted back, listening to Uncle Trevor's low and rich tones as he assured Bregna peace and prosperity. He was a wonderful speaker, good at capturing the audiences' attention. He always spoke with such sincerity and power the even Aeon could be convinced of his leadership.

The meetings were her least-favourite task. Freya assigned them with teasing amusement. Aeon was required to sit for hours on end, listening to the bickering. Oren's monotone was especially dull. Then there was the notes-she was required to scrawl in shorthand all of the happenings. Usually she sketched and doodled in the margins of the notebook. She sat slightly behind Trevor, who glanced back on occasion, mostly to keep an eye on her, sometimes to view her pictures. He was, she found, just as bored as she was.

In these meetings, the chairman took on an icy exterior that was completely unfamiliar to her. Una didn't believe her when Aeon described the severe alteration. Trevor was, to them, the embodiment of distant warmth. "Cold" just wasn't a word they associated with him.

"It's like he's…retracted within himself. Observing, not partaking," Aeon explained to her sister one afternoon as they relined in Una's apartments. "He clearly loathes being there."

"Then why does he even bother with it? Can't he send a representative? He is the chairman," Una said. She had no taste for the council.

"I don't know. He's just very hands-on, I guess."

"Yeah," Una agreed. "But if he's miserable…."

Aeon got the point. The next time they prepared for one of the sessions, she asked. They stood in Trevor's room. The chairman was before his mirror, straightening the collar of his jacket. One brow raised before he replied, "It's my job. What I was selected to do."

"Yes, but you're not happy doing it," Aeon insisted. "Isn't that the point of life? To be happy?"

"Well," the chairman said, eyes still on his reflection. "Happiness isn't something everyone can afford, Aeon. Some must lead. And leadership doesn't always allow for pleasure. It is a heavy burden, one only the most selfless can carry-to lead means setting aside family, personal benefits, to find the good for all. It is not by any means easy. But I have my happiness. You only see me in the moments when I am pressed by the council."

"Are you happy?"

He smiled, turning to face her. "Of course. Maybe not in the meeting room, perhaps not while I'm issuing contracts or reading over files. But otherwise…I have my health, my family," he approached, cupping her cheek. "And you."

"And Una," she reminded him.

"And Una" he recounted, keeping his hand on her face, staring into her eyes for a long moment. "Of course."

To comfort her, over the next several meetings he would glance back to make faces, expressing his irritation. Aeon had a hard time not laughing. So she would stare at her notes, biting the inside of her cheek.

Over the last year, their relationship had taken a turn. The man she called uncle had quietly detached from that title. She didn't quite know how, but he wasn't-they weren't….

Something had changed. His gazes were intense, touches frequent and lingering. She felt less at-ease when they were alone, becoming very stiff and silent. It took quite a bit to coax her to a more comfortable state. Trevor took to spending the evenings in her company, walking the paths of the court yard, observing Bregna's cityscape from his balcony, or conversing lightly. Suddenly, Una and Aeon were less of his focus-it was Aeon who seemed to rule his attentions. Her little sister neither noticed, nor minded. Aeon felt alone in her realization, utterly lost. What had she missed?

Nanny noticed, of course, but said nothing. She had long since discussed Trevor's intentions toward his adoptive niece. She was at peace with his intended path. There would be not muddling on her part.

Unsettled as she was, the normally outspoken teen wouldn't dare confront her adoptive uncle. She wouldn't even know what to accuse him of-what had he done, but perhaps drop a few touches?

All of her frustration came to a culmination several months following her employment. It was evening. Their walk finished, the chairman coaxed Aeon inside for a nightcap and conversation. They were discussing the latest state event-some annual anniversary gala. Trevor was considering bringing her. Aeon was open to the idea, enough for discussion, anyways.

"Why bother?" she asked. "They're all so fake, and terribly rude, and it will be so boring…."

"Yes, but to not go would be rude of us," Trevor reminded her, tapping the tip of her nose fondly. "And we need them to like us."

"Like _you_," she correctly, drawing back. Trevor appeared surprised, but allowed the distance. "They need to like you. I'm nobody. You're important."

The chairman frowned. "That isn't true. You're important to be. And if you were to offend them…well, Aeon, it isn't wise. You never know what holds in your future."

It was Aeon's turn to make a face. "I am not going into politics."

"You never know."

"I couldn't," she shook her head, tone fierce. "Those people…they are crooks. Scum. Horrid people. I've heard them, Trevor, and to be involved with any of them would be an absolute horror. I don't know how you do it."

"Better I deal with them than leaving it off to others who are weak-willed," he said mildly. "Really, my dear, you shouldn't fret over it. I know they make you angry, but they've little power. Don't give them more over your life; your frustration only enables them."

She was quiet. Trevor took the pause as an opportunity to draw close again. They were seated on the low square couch, each nursing a glass of wine. Aeon's was pressed against her lips as she mused. When Trevor's arms came around her, she closed her eyes, fingers tightening around the glass. Uncertain, she remained stiff against him. Trevor, in his turn, made no further motions. _"Waiting or what?" _she asked herself. After several seconds, she relaxed slightly, sinking into the circle of his arms. Neither commented.

"You will come," Trevor decided. "It will a good experience for you."

"What about Una? I was going when I was fifteen. She's seventeen now, why doesn't she ever have to go?"

Trevor shook his head. "She isn't suited to this life as you are. Your sister will never be as connected as you."

"What do you mean?" Aeon asked, looking up at him, concern colouring her gaze.

"Merely that she isn't inclined to the bustled of the capitol. She will thrive in a quieter life style; you live for tackling problems. You're a problem-seeker. You want to liberate everyone, save the world. Una isn't like that. She wants a small, sheltered lifestyle. Married, with children," he peered down at her. "What is you want, Aeon? Is that what you wish for? To leave us, here, and make a family for yourself?"

Surprised, Aeon shifted in his arms. She had never considered Una leaving. But he was right-it would be what suited her. And his question felt like it had some vague double-meaning she didn't understand.

"I—I don't know," she said honestly. "I think I want something outside of the capitol. Ah, but this is where you are. And Nanny, and Una, and Oren," she said quickly upon seeing his expression. "To leave you behind would be very hard. Besides, I can't very well stay here forever, can I? I mean, what could I do? You've said it yourself, I need activity."

In an instant, he had her chin, stroking it with his thumb, tilting her head upward so he'd have a better view of her face. Half-lidded eyes flickered over her features.

"Aeon-"

He lowered his head then, pressing his lips softly to hers. Aeon was frozen in her seat. Her mind was buzzing, then screaming, then blank. Trevor tugged her close, folding her into him. For a brief moment, he pulled away, allowing her to breath. Aeon gasped, then he had shifted her onto his lap and was kissing her again.

For a time, she lost herself in the _niceness _of the kiss, of the touch. Her mind was blank with pleasure-Trevor made it easy. He did little besides rub her back with his free hand, and hold her hand with the other. There were no further advances. It was gentlemanly, polite, yet intense and sensuous. She didn't have to think, just fall into his embrace.

And then she remembered-_Uncle _Trevor. The man who had raised her.

The same fellow she was she sharing her first kiss with.

Aeon drew back. He didn't stop her, merely sank against the couch, observing her small internal breakdown. This was anticipated. Understandable. She would have inhibitions. Fears. Certainly apprehension. And he would ease them away, reasonable explain why she should let him worship her. For those were his intentions. Four hundred years without her, there was little else he wanted to do.

Tenderly, Aeon made to stand. This was the point where he stopped her. "Aeon?"

"I need some water."

So he released her. Without looking back, she crossed to the bar, pouring herself a small glass and downing it in one go. For a long time, she stood facing the windows, back to him. Trevor waited, as always. Finally, finally she turned back to him, crossing on light feet. She did not sit, but stood near the couch. Trevor rose.

"What was that?" she asked softly.

He raised his hands in an empty gesture, one going to caress her jaw. "What do you think?"

The teen shook her head, trying to sway him from his caressing. "I don't understand."

"I don't want you to leave. Ever. Stay here, Aeon, help me protect Bregna." He lowered his head, looking up at her from beneath his lashes. "Aeon, I love you."

She laughed; she couldn't help it. "And I you. As my _uncle._ Please, Trevor, I-" she shook her head again helplessly. "You cannot mean this."

"No, you know. You must feel the same, Aeon. I've not been your uncle for some time now."

"Oh, I don't know what to say." She tried to move away, but he had a hand around her waist.

"Say yes? Say you'll stay here. You don't have to love me-that will only come with time. But just—just realize it is a potential."

"Trevor, please, this is…isn't right. You _raised me_."

He shrugged. "What does that mean? We're not of the same blood, Aeon. No one could blame us of any wrong."

She tried again. "I know, but that doesn't make it right. You can't just…just…."

As if to prove her wrong, he seized her for another long kiss. This time, Aeon struggled against him, tugging all limbs from his grip, pulling away as he plundered her mouth. As soon as she was free from his grasp she was halfway across the room, entirely on-edge, eyes dark and mouth hard.

"Aeon-"

Then she was gone.

**-XXX-**

**Review? Please? I'm at nil right now. **


	6. Chapter 6

Aeon locked her door. As she ran to her room, the sound of echoing footprints followed her-Trevor. But she was far faster, beating him by nearly a minute. A pounding befell her door when he reached it, angry and loud and desperate. Then her name, accompanying the banging. Over and over-_"Aeon, Aeon, Aeon." _She curled up in bed, listening to his pleas while finally drifting off to sleep.

Her dreams were of them. She was older, in a different time. Clearly in love. These dreams always pained her. Yet that night they a_ched. _She tossed and turned. The flood of senses were merciless, however, and more than once she woke up sobbing. Between the sorrow and confusion, Aeon did not reach true sleep until the early hours of the morn.

When she woke, Trevor was outside of her door. Someone (or possibly himself) had laid out a pallet on which he reclined. As soon as she stepped out, he rose to greet her. "Aeon."

His hands were on hers instantly. Barefoot, she realized how tall he was- - -usually they were about the same level. He loomed over her, silent.

"I can't do this," she said softly. "Trevor, no, it's not right. People will _hate _you."

"I don't care."

"No, you can't do this to yourself!" She hit his chest. "I won't be the cause. You've got to maintain appearances. Being with me will never achieve this. And I cannot love you, not like you want me to."

The hazel eyes were dark. "Aeon, you can. Give it time."

She shook her head, stepping back. "No."

For a long moment, they stared at one another. Neither moved, nor spoke. Awkward, but necessarily. It was an examination, attempting to discover whether the other was serious in their conviction. Neither were happy with their findings. Eventually, Aeon dropped her hands from his, holding herself in from the cool morning air. The chairman simply stared.

"I'm going back to bed," Aeon said finally. She turned, catching the door. Before closing it, Trevor spoke.

"What do we do, then?"

Aeon turned back, but didn't look at him, merely bit her lip. "I don't know. But I—I can't stay. Here, I mean."

"No," Trevor said slowly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to go," she said with a slight sigh. "Into Bregna. Find a job, and a house, and live."

"Live," he repeated.

"Yes." Aeon closed her eye briefly. "It's what I need to do."

Another pause. Then- - -

"Stay here. Don't leave your room until I come for you," Trevor instructed.

Taken aback, Aeon finally caught his eye. "Excuse me?"

"We shall need to discuss this. But first, there is business I need to attend to. Stay here."

Slowly, Aeon nodded. "Fine."

Trevor departed. Aeon closed the door. Then she went straight to the bathroom. In the top drawer of her vanity, there was a pair of gleaming scissors. Without any consideration, she took them out, released her hair from its plait, and selected one lock. The scissors opened, closes, and her hair now rested on the tiled floor. Again, she snipped. And again. And again. Until layers and layers of her raven locks littered the tile, a carpet of hair. What was left didn't even brush her shoulders, barely made it past her ears. Cleaning it up, getting everything even, took a little time, but soon she couldn't even recognize her own reflection. With this new style, everything about her looked sharper-her cheekbones, her jaw, her eyes. _"Hello," _she said softly to herself.

Aeon examined herself in the mirror for some time before leaving the bathroom- - - hair, scissors and all- - -for the bedroom. She had some packing to do.

Once dressed and packed, she began her notes. One for Nanny, and of course Una. Oren would receive nothing - - -not a slight if he didn't notice, she supposed- - -and Trevor would get a small book. She had too many things to say to him.

Just as she was signing Trevor's note with a flourish, there was a knock at the door. A blanket was toss over her bags, the papers overturned on her desk, then she started towards the door (glancing back twice to ensure her bags were sufficiently hidden).

The chairman once again graced the threshold. Without invitation, he crossed through.

"I cannot allow you to leave."

Aeon was silent. Her anticipated protest not occurring, he resumed.

"It isn't safe, out there. The Monican's numbers have increased in recent months, as well as their activity. If they were to find out who you are, where you came from, it would be disaster. For your own safety, I cannot let you go."

She believed him because he was Trevor and he would do what was best for her, but his words did nothing to alter her plan. She nodded, saying shortly, "Alright. Thank you."

This was a clear dismissal, but he stayed where he was, eyes locked on her. "I shall do everything in my power to make you comfortable here. You needn't continue working for me if it bothers you. We don't have to see one another. I can make things very secure. You needn't see me until you want to," he took a breath. "I want you happy, Aeon. That is all I want, all I can ask of you. Don't be in misery on my account."

"Thank you," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Trevor, for everything."

He frowned. "What happened to your hair?"

Running one hand through the cropped locks, Aeon remembered her incident in the bathroom. "I needed a change."

"Oh." He reached for the silken strands, letting his fingers slide through them. The sight clearly saddened him. Without another word, he departed.

Aeon sank to her bed. Oh, to see Una one last time. But no. She had to get out. Soon. Now. Before he came again.

She had no notion of what to do once she left. She had nowhere to go, really, no family or home. There was a little money, and things to barter with. Nanny had shown them how to haggle in the markets. If she could at least find a place for the night, she would be set. Just one night, then she might figure it all out from there.

She waited for nightfall. When the sun crested the walls of the capitol, Aeon looked through the content of her bags again. After double and triple checking, she felt ready. She dressed in her darkest clothes- - - a pair of slate- - - coloured pants, tight to her legs, and a long-sleeved black sweater, plus her favourite boots-and tucked all money and valuables in her pockets, bra, and waistline of her pants. Nothing would escape her. She would be smart, and careful. That was the only way she could get out.

When the sky was a misty purple, Aeon left her bedroom, creeping along the walls of the corridors, listening. She had decided, in the midst of rearranging her pack, to see Una. She had to see Una. It would be horridly cruel to leave the younger girl without a single word of goodbye. Besides, Aeon couldn't be certain Trevor would deliver her notes. A five-minute visit could do little harm. And it wouldn't have to be goodbye. They'd see one another again. "_Someday," _she vowed.

They were sisters. No matter where Aeon ran, that would never change.

Una opened the door, her nose instantly scrunching in confusion. "Aeon? What's going on? I haven't seen you all day. Your hair!"

Her sister pushed past her, saying "I haven't time to explain. Listen, Trevor is going to come to you and will ask if you've seen me. I can't force you, but it would be really helpful if you lied and said you hadn't. Really, _really _helpful."

"Um," The younger girl blinked. "Alright. Why?"

Aeon rubbed her arms nervously. Less than a minute into the conversation and she felt wary. "Some things happened, Una. And I've…I've run into some trouble."

"Oh." Her sister's eyes grew wide. "Oh Aeon. What have you done now? Is this one of your pranks? Is Trevor going to be mad? Tell what it is. I don't want to see you punished," she begged. "Maybe I can talk to him."

"No, no. It's fine. Everything is fine." Aeon tugged on the strap of her pack, wincing. "He'll be mad, but there's nothing he can do. And you _can't tell him _Una. You really can't."

"Aeon," Una rushed forward, having noticed the backpack. A look of sheer anxiety crossed her features. "You're not _leaving, _are you?"

The elder girl swallowed, but found that she could not speak.

Una stared. "Why? Why are you going?"

"I can't tell you, Una," Aeon pleaded softly. "Please trust me. It's for a legitimate problem, though."

Una faltered, falling back. Her eyes flickered over her sister's figure before asking quietly, "It's Uncle Trevor, isn't it?"

Surprised for the second time in twenty-four hours, Aeon froze, staring. A few seconds passed before she could manage, "What do you…mean, by that, exactly?"

"It's pretty clear his feelings for you," the younger girl said softly. "Even I could see."

Had everyone noticed, except for her? Aeon shook her head. This day was turning into a complete blur. How had she not seen? Or had she, but simply subconsciously decided to ignore all signs? What was it that made him so…and her so…blind?

"But you don't have to leave because of this," Una said, taking her sister's hands. "Trevor isn't a monster, he'll let you stay and he wouldn't bother you. Please, Aeon. I've never not had you here."

Oh, was it tempting. But no.

"Trevor isn't the one casting me out. But I still can't stay. I just came to say goodbye."

Una did not cry. She stopped begging, merely crossed her arms and stared her elder sister down.

Aeon spoke softly. "It's not forever. We'll see one another again."

"When?"

"I don't know. Now, I have to go, Una. You promise you won't tell him?"

The girl was stiff. "You're breaking his heart, you know," she replied, ignoring the question. "He loves you."

"He's my uncle," was all Aeon could say.

One embrace later, she was climbing out the window, sprinting across the courtyard, and scaling the wall for the roof. Once there, she had an easy access to the outer wall of the capitol- - - the ones that faced the plateaus, then the city beyond. On the wall, she stood for a long moment, gazing upon the city, it's cool twinkling lights, and The Relicle drifting high above. Then she looked back to the home she'd known for just over thirteen years. The stark white concrete and stucco. The cherry blossoms. The peaceful water circling Trevor's quarters. The circular skylights. Her nursery. The fountains.

She was ready. This life wasn't made for her. It was time to go. One step, and she was away from it all. No longer the Goodchild niece. Aeon Flux.

It suited her. _"Perfectly," _she thought.

Without turning back again, Aeon jumped.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm good at…physicalities. I can get in and out of tight places. I'm fast on my feet. And I think we need change."

That was enough for the Monicans. They welcomed the new recruit with open arms and hearts. She couldn't shoot worth a damn, but they were willing to teach. Besides this, she was young, able-bodied, pure-minded and eager for adventure. Just what they sought in recruits. The instructors saw her as something of a godsend, fresh blood to invigorate the entire organization. Aeon's blood was on fire; she had never been more free.

They didn't know her background. That was the thing with the Monicans-no matter your past, you could come in new. A better person. Clean. Pasts were things kept to oneself. They mattered not. All the Monicans cared for was the _now _and the _future. _A new world. An improved city. Not the skeletons littering their member's closets.

Aeon kept word of her childhood from the ears of those around her. As forgiving as the Monican council could be, she didn't think such a personal connection to the chairman would be well-received. So, she remained silent. Without a doubt they would know, someday. Then they could decide whether she was loyal. But for the moment, Aeon needed protection. She needed a stance. The Monicans could provide her with this.

In a few months, Aeon Flux was adept at assembling, using, and taking apart a wide variety of weapons. Though young, she impressed those around her without leaving behind an unpleasant emphasis of ego.

And then, she was one of them. The rebels that would see her family dead, the fraction of the population seeking change and progress.

It unsettled her, the idea of Trevor and Oren and Nanny and Una dead. Aeon was determined to rise in the ranks enough to encourage imprisonment, rather than executing. At least for Una and Nanny-they had done nothing wrong, why should they share such a fate with the council and her uncles?

Which was not to say she wanted either Trevor or Oren dead. They were family, the only family she had in the world. Trevor had meant no harm, he didn't deserve such a merciless demise. Give him a trial.

Whispers of Aeon's philosophy circulated through the Monicans, and she found herself in an audience with the central council one afternoon.

"The Goodchild reign must end," they told her simultaneously, their voices a single drone. "You see this? They have injured our society and our peoples."

Aeon did not argue. She reasoned. "Won't we be perceived as being just as ruthless if we execute them without trial? It would not be a good first move to assassinate the chairheads without any sort of public tribunal."

There was a pause.

"We will consider your words, young Flux. If a hearing were possible, it would be ideal," someone finally said. "But we cannot guarantee it."

Aeon stopped talking to others in the organization after that.

Still, she slowly began to sink into the common fear and loathing of the Goodchild regime. It was hard for the Monican hate not to rub off on her. She could see, with burning eyes, the flaws in the system. The souls missing, the people hurt. It was clear to her. Now she was outside of the capitol, she could see the effects. The mourning parents. Missing facing. The helmeted officers manning every street. A clear aversion of the white outer walls.

It was sad.

Nevertheless, she always mentally separated "the Goodchild regime" from Trevor. From Nanny, and Una. From her favourite councilmen and women, from those who served the household. They were not the same people that ordered or supported the pain that Bregna endured.

Either way, she was going to take them down. _"For Bregna. And Una." _

**-XXX-**

They gave her a hole-in-the-wall, a two-room, oddly shaped place that looked out over the capitol. She liked in well enough. The first thing she did was find some bead curtains to hang around her bed. When feeling melancholy, Aeon would run her hands along the beads, allowing them to tinkle faintly. Closing her eyes, she could feel the cool breezes coming off of the pools, and smell recently-fallen cherry blossoms that had once surrounded her world.

She missed Una. It was hard to leave her, most of all, far harder than Trevor. She had _always _had Una. Una was her duty, her task, her charge; her delight. It scared Aeon to leave her sister to face Trevor's miserable wrath (which she acknowledged as unlikely) alone.

The girls had never seen their adoptive uncle greatly upset. There were evenings, of course, after particularly straining council meetings, when he was frustrated with people and the world and he raged. But this was always taken as directed to others. And these tumultuous emotions were always reined in by the girls' quieter words. He could not be angry around them.

Even so. Aeon worried.

She simply couldn't see Una without endangering both of them. To visit, she would have to enter the capitol-something she was not willing to do unless heavily armed and with plenty of backup. Besides, she had been told the sole time she would be returning, it was to be under a specific mission. One she knew nothing of, and greatly anticipated.

On occasional, she would come to the marketplace. Una and Nanny still went there every week. Claudius came more and more often. He was always at Una's side, bright and buoyant to her drained expressions. Aeon approved of the relationship- - - Claudius might very well get her out of the capitol. At seventeen, he already had his own house in the East district. She knew Oren liked to boy, too. That would help.

Sometimes, in the park, she would see Trevor. He was always dressed in very understated clothes, quietly observing those around him. Blending in. She was always able to recognize him—latched hands hanging behind his back, the solid stature, bright hazel orbs. Aeon questioned why he came. Was it to watch people? Try to feel out how his people were, if they thrived?

Usually he stood near the tree, the one she'd climbed up all those years ago, scaring him and bringing on a slew of gym instructors. He would touch the parchment bark of the birch, a curious look in his eye. The young woman wondered what it was he thought of, if he missed her, regretted anything. His face was impassive, musing a complete mystery to her. Sometimes, he would bring a book, or some blank tome in which he scripted something-thoughts, feeling, observations? His folded hands sometimes shook. And Aeon often thought she would be very sad to see him gone. She would be very sad indeed.

**-XXX-**

When she was twenty-two, only three years out of the capitol, Aeon was sent on her first solo mission.

It was nothing grand. Lately, she had been sent on message runs, delivering notes and such. This was not so different-slipping into the gallery of post-Bregna art and hiding a package inside of a particular canvas-but it was her break. One day of planning, another to scope, revise the plan, and the operation went down in under two hours. No one was hurt. There were a few disoriented, but that couldn't be helped. It was, in all ways, successful. Aeon went by unrecognized.

She was still surprised she could pass through the city unnoticed by. Trevor had sent out legions the night after she went missing. The camera-watchers were coded to find her face. And yet, she was never spotted. It was curious. Bothersome. True, she went out of her way sometimes to cover her face, wear a veil, but even on the days when she went bare, there was nothing. No one to apprehend her. No one calling out her name. Nothing. Which made her paranoid that there was some bigger scheme. Had someone in the ranks realized she was with the Monicans? Or was it Monican protection that was her grace? She was certain they by now realized who she was, where she came from. Yet no one said a word. It was accepted without comment.

At twenty-four she began to head her own missions, mostly those dealing with communications. There were standard interference operations, then some used to collect data. Information was gold, and Aeon had a mastery to getting it. She thrilled in the drama and complication, lived for those last-minute escapes that left her heart pounding and skull splitting. The others teased her. _"You're going to be caught, Flux, if you're not any lighter on your feet." _

She always waved them off. _"At least I _have_ feet."_

Transplants were becoming popular. The offer was made, more than once, but Aeon rather liked the limbs. And her shoes.

On a few recon operations, she caught sight of the chairman. There was one particular encounter in the industrial quarter that was a close shave. She had been sent in to implant a bug in the managing supervisor's office. It was to be done during the day, with Aeon posing at a Bregna Sentinel reporter in for a quick interview. She was ushered in very politely- - - industry men were always on the lookout for good press- - - to be seated in the marble-and-brass waiting room. There were many mirrors, a set of magazines and newspapers for perusing, and one of the perky receptionists offered her a coffee. Aeon (or Bethany Windle, as she was known as for today) declined the coffee, but did accept a glass of water. It was offered with a lemon slice, three sugar packets, and never-melt ice. Excess was the industry's name.

While she waited, another soul entered the reception room. She was browsing a very boring architecture rag when he walked in, so her first sight of him was of his backside while he spoke to the women at the desk. He was also directed to wait, and moved to sit across from her in the black leather box seat. Aeon glanced up casually from behind the magazine. She was shocked into a dazed state for several seconds when she realized who, exactly, she was sitting next to-the chairman, dressed in his pomp-and-circumstance councilman clothes, browsing the selection of periodicals. When he looked her way, hazel eyes curious, Aeon automatically shoved the architecture piece back in front of her face.

There was a pause.

"Excuse me?"

She ignored him, pretending to be absorbed in a passage about flying buttresses and their move back into "style." But when he spoke again, she had to look up.

He inquired after knowing her, very politely. Aeon thanked the gods that be that she wore a hat which shadowed half her face, and had decided contacts and a wig were appropriate. She loathed these dress- - - up missions-she wasn't one for anything but the shadowy subtle work- - - but had to appreciate the disguise today. Her hair was a russet brown, almost matching the copper eyes she'd selected for the day. Nothing like herself, especially when paired with the smart blazer and pencilskirt in a solid pink, trimmed with a lighter pink satin at the hems. It was a little small, stretching across her breasts in a manner that she was not used to and pushing them up…someone had described it as "_sexy_," which she wanted nothing to do with. Her hat was small, but dipped down to cover half of her face, and included a small fan of net that acted as a veil.

"No, I'm afraid not, Chairman," she responded, equally polite.

Goodchild apologized. "You recognize me," he said, lips quirking. Smiling.

"It is hard not to, sir."

"Yes, but you would be surprised," he leaned back in his seat, relaxing. "Most will stare, wondering if it is, in fact, me, or if they're seeing what isn't there. Not you, though."

Aeon smiled back, then returned to her magazine. This clearly bothered the chairman, as he spoke again.

"I'm sorry, but you remind me of someone." He wasn't sure where he was going with that, but added, "Forgive me. Are you sure we haven't…not at some gala, or opening? Do you work? Where? Or have we perhaps bumped into one another on the street-I do go out into the streets, you know?...not there, then. Where?"

Amused, Aeon shook her head. "I do not recall it, sir. It is highly unlikely-I am no one to be noticed."

"A dream, then." He sat forward eagerly. "I know you, I must. What is your name-?"

But he was cut off by the arrival of Mr. Terrance, the managing supervisor. "Sir, we were not expecting you." He turned to Aeon. "I apologize, miss, but I must ask that you wait a little longer. I have business with the gentleman…thank you. Right this way, Chairman Goodchild."

Goodchild hung back for a few more words. "I should very much like to know you. What did he say your name was?"

"He didn't," she reminded him, half-smiling. "You ought to go ahead, Chairman. You don't want to miss your meeting."

He returned the smile, then followed Terrance into the office, looking back once to say, "Shall I interrogate you after, then? Coffee, with me? I'll wait for you."

"I'm nearly half your age," she warned, still amused.

"The better half, I should hope. Will you see me?"

She didn't answer. As soon as the door shut, she excused herself to the ladies room, where she would wait out their meeting. Listening carefully, she heard him later ask the receptionist where "that remarkable young woman" had gone. Naturally, they knew nothing. The chairman left, and Aeon returned to the waiting room, was invited into Mr. Terrance's office, and planted the bug.

A close call. Later that night, she sat on the window seat, overlooking the capitol. She thought maybe she could pick out the warm little glow that was Trevor's quarters. His light burned deep into the night, and she hoped that maybe he was thinking of her. Just a little.


	8. Chapter 8

At twenty-six, Aeon Flux was high in the ranks. Without a single failed mission, and plenty under her belt, she was able to work as an instructor to new recruits-many, it turned out, were older than her. She had earned ultimate trust. The day came for her greatest task- - -

"We have an assignment. We want you to sabotage Goodchild's central surveillance facility."

The facility was the worst-kept secret of the century. All of the city's camera livefeed went there, creating a stockpile of information. Monicans had been caught more than once in the system; it was heavily guarded, nearly impenetrable. It was the greatest factor working against the rebellion, something that could only be temporarily impaired. She had never been selected. Till now.

She was nervous. But more excited than anything. Blinding the dragon was a step towards dashing a sword through its heart. An honorable assignment, one in which she would hurt no one.

That was the worst part of the job. While the organization hated the defeat of human life, it was not something they could shy away from. Aeon loathed the very thought. But she had killed- - -and would again. It was necessarily.

Before preparing for her evening activities, she came to the marketplace. It was Una's day for shopping.

Nanny had long stopped accompanying the younger sister- - - her hip was unkind, making trips outside of the capitol difficult. This left an opening for Aeon, easy access to her sister. She lived for market days. Una had certainly grown since Aeon left; she was engaged to Claudius, held a job at a healer's shop, and was preparing to leave the capitol. According to Una, Trevor was reluctantly to see her go, but nevertheless supported his youngest niece's decision. He had even helped Claudius purchase a house for the newlyweds.

As they walked through the stalls, Una stopping to examine fruits and flowers. Aeon didn't speak much, but rather listened to her little sister monologue on happenings in the capitol- - - -mostly her upcoming wedding. No expense was being spared. Aeon wished she could attend, but at most she might catch a glimpse of it with her telescope from her small loft. It would be something.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to Trevor.

"I think he suspects," Una said, biting her lip. "Sometimes he'll bring me in for an audience. He never says your name, but it's more than clear who he's looking for."

"Una, can we not?" Aeon sighed. She tried not to think too much on her capitol life, or the people she left behind. Except Una. "He knows nothing. And now…I am nothing to him. We can leave it at that."

"Aeon!" her sister scolded, stunned. "He _loves _you. Really loves you. How can you think otherwise."

"Because, I know him. He isn't capable- - -" she lied, but Una cut her off.

"No, you know better than that. You know Trevor, he's not that person the Mon-_they _make him out to be. Not by a long shot. We of all people know this."

She could only sigh. The girls moved onto different topics. Such as arguing about the Monicans and the Goodchild regime.

**-XXX-**

He saw her again, after she met Una in the market. It was several days afterwards. Aeon received word from her sister of his recent turn in health- - - stress had prematurely aged him, and illness did little to get him back on his feet. Nervous, Aeon risked a trip to the park to see him. Though he was her enemy, by the Monican code, his uncle he would forever be. And she worried.

Sitting beneath his usual tree, the chairman appeared drained, perhaps, and faint. She wore the wig and contacts of before, besides a heavy veil. While not directly approaching him, she left him to pick her out. And he did, quickly when she passed by, hips switching, purse bouncing with every step.

She stopped, smiling when he spoke of their last meeting, asked after her. Aeon redirected the question toward him. That was when he invited her to sit.

So she did. And they talked.

He worked too hard-that was not an exaggeration, but a solid truth. The work was his lifeblood, but it was also killing him. Slowly, but surely. Then there was the matter of rebellion, always on the back of his mind. His niece was getting married soon, so seeing her out was heartbreaking. As for his other niece? The elder? The one she'd read about?

Well, she was…Aeon was….

Gone. He said it so simply.

Aeon apologized for his loss, citing her own recent bereavement of a beloved family member only seven years ago.

They spoke for a long while, of nothing and everything, in calm tones. When she finally stood, extending a hand to the chairman, he told her quite honestly that he wanted to see her again. That in a city of five million, he didn't want to have to wade through thousands and wait another two years before seeing her again.

She stuttered through reasons why another meeting wasn't possible, how it was best to be sporadic, and was about to shell out another excuse when he pushed aside her veil for a soft, smooth kiss. And, before parting, he whispered a request for her name. Somehow Aeon managed to breathe back her alias.

They departed without another word. Their next exchange wouldn't be for months.

**-XXX-**

Then came the day. When she was asked to perform the one task she'd always feared.

Eliminating Trevor.

How was she to know it would be her duty, her task? She was good yes, had yet to fail any assignment, but there were others. Why must it be her? Was this simply a test, made to determine her loyalty?

She would never know.

Aeon accepted the assignment without much comment, saying only that it ought to have been done sooner. Suicide or not.

The security measure outside of the civilian zone were childish. She ran through them, exerting all of her gymnast's core to reach the capitol walls. _"Never thought I would willingly be coming back here," _she thought, lips quirking.

The journey to the forum was filled with her musings and apprehension. Her partner kept passing her odd looks, asking silently for a confirmation of "okay." It never came. Aeon was far from "okay." She wasn't sure what she was, only knew that "okay" was the furthest thing she was from that day. She was going to kill Trevor.

Her wounds burned. But these could be ignored with the pain of her reality sinking in. _Kill. Trevor. Kill. Trevor. Kill. Trevor. _What would Una think of her? Nanny? Could they ever forgive her? Would she able to forgive herself?

And what if…what if she failed? Couldn't go through with it? Aeon shook these thoughts out for her head. For now, she needed to focus on simply getting there. _"Not a time for regrets. Focus."_

The forum was entirely empty. Not surprising- - - he was practicing. Closing her eyes, Aeon could remember a day when she was in the audience, the sole audience to one of Trevor's speeches. Sitting back in the seat, running her fingers along the velvet, listening to her chairman's rich tones. It was always a significant, insightful sort of speech, the kind even a nineteen-year-old would listen to. She had a grand time making facing at him, too, thought he could never make them out due to the stage lights; in them, you were blinded to anything beyond the stage zone.

One instance, she could recall sneaking from her seat to walk backstage, creeping behind the chairman to run cool fingers along his spin. He'd removed his jacket before beginning practice, leaving only a thin linen shirt, so he felt her, and shivered before whipping around. Spotting her as she back away, laughing, Trevor advanced, lifting her off the stage. It shocked her to a gaping, silent sort of laugh; he hadn't picked her up since she was a head past his knee. Scooping her into his arm, he spun them across the polished wood, head thrown back, practically cackling, which only made her laugh harder.

When they stopped, he tucked back a few strands of her hair behind her ear, pieces that had escaped from her messy bun. In response, she reached up to muss his hair with one hand. Ruining the mood he'd established, but he threw caution to the wind (especially when it came to the quick-reaction Aeon) to dip her low. Aeon giggled wildly (she would later be ashamed of the girlishness).

They were happy. Almost unbearably happy. Aeon wondered if Oren was like this with his favourite, with Una. Somehow, she doubted it. Which only made her feel light with joy.

He hadn't yet arrived, so Aeon tucked herself in one of the balconies, listening. When the warm and solid murmur of Trevor's voice echoed through the room, she closed her eyes, fingering her gun and straining to pull out words from the buzz. He was quieter. _"No one to listen," s_he realized. He no longer had an Aeon to review his speech.

Taking a breath, she slipped out of the box and moved toward the stage.

_"…the fabric of who we are…."_

And she was out of the wings, throwing back the red curtain and advancing. He stopped, turning to her, eyes wide. Then, the edge of fear she'd expected, faded. Never mind the gun she brandished, he had a soft-half smile around his shock. Awe coloured every inch of him as he murmured, "Katherine…."

Her vision blurred-overwhelmed by another sight, a pair of lovers. She blinked, but it did not alter until she lowered the gun.

Again, Goodchild spoke. "It's you…."

Almost a moan. Aeon wanted to scream, wanted to ask why he was calling her this, why he wasn't defending himself, why couldn't he see her, _Aeon_, who was Katherine and- - - and- - -

She felt the club against her skull in fractions, collapsing forward, succumbing to darkness even as she experienced the sensation of hands at her waist. Trevor, catching her. _"What if you had fallen? What would I have done then?" _

She had never answered.

**-XXX-**

When she woke, it was to the hum of a name- - - over and over- - - "_Katherine." _For a brief second, all she could see was the blurred imagine of a figure walking away, dark and tall and familiar. Then she blinked, and the concrete came into view. A cell.

A cell?

She strained to remember. There was an assignment at hand. Mentally tracing her steps, Aeon breathed slowly. The gardens, running. Trees that shot poisoned darts. Grass of blades. The underground of the capitol. Hiding in the forum, waiting to hear the chairman speak…running to the wings. Coming out, the curtain flasing. And then-

She sat bolt upright. As soon as she was able, Aeon began to pace the room, feel the walls, examine the corners. Panic was settling in, but she needed to focus. Without a doubt she'd go mad in this room if she did not center herself. The room had a low ceiling, but it was light. That helped. The walls were seamless. No cracks. Practically new, or rarely used. She went to the wall furthest the pallet, touching the textured surface. Nothing there. Turning to look upwards, she touched the grate. A possibility for something…it was the only other connected to an outside place.

Light swelled. She jumped slightly, spinning to face the wall she had just abandoned. Glass replaced the simulated stone, and she now faced the chairman and several guardsmen. One she recognized. He had been very kind, name…Dracon! That was it. He always watched out for Una at the greenhouses, and escorted her back to the living portion of the capitol. She was very fond of him. Clearly, he'd risen in the ranks. But the other man she did not know.

Her attention centered on Trevor. He wore a long black great coat, collar high. His hair was mussed by wind. She wished dearly to draw back, to look him over and sideways and up and down. But no. She remained where she was, eyes gazes leveled. Aeon tucked her chin as Trevor lifted his, each going on the defensive. Cautious, they both approached the glass.

"Aeon."

That was it. Her name.

Wary, Aeon said, "You called me by another name, earlier."

He was colder than before. She didn't know if it was the reality of her attempted assassination hitting him, or some playacting for the guards. But he was distant. She had a chance to fully see him now, to take in the lines of age. He was graying at the temples. Stress strained his mouth, tighten his eyes, left his hands stiff. Aeon saw the deep crevasses on his brow and had to remind herself that he was only forty-not too old, in the scheme of things.

"I did," Trevor agreed. "And you let me live." A curious expression crossed his features. Confusion, mingled with hope. He didn't understand. With that point, neither did she.

"Give me my gun. I'll try again," she assured him. Foolish lie, but she must keep with appearances. She was on an assignment.

His mouth quirked. "Maybe later."

"What was that name?"

The chairman grew closer to the glass. For brief moment, she felt utterly bare to him. He looked at her with older eyes, not as an uncle looking upon his disgraced niece, but as something deeper. There was disappointment, yes. Hope, too. But something significantly out of place.

Aeon was not a virgin. She had, for the sake of Monican missions, given up that title some time ago. She knew the eyes of hungry men. Trevor had this look, but it was a softer, more emotional version. Like he'd just found something that had been long lost.

"You know me, don't you?"

His seriousness was the only thing preventing her laughter.

"No," she said, wit arching. "I don't."

"Do you know who you are?"

Temper flared in her. What was he playing at? "I know I came here to kill you."

"That's why you're in a cell." Humor lit his eyes briefly. She found nothing funny about this deranged questioning. "But we're both still alive for a reason."

That said, he turned away. Aeon felt waves of frustration from him. He had just been humored? Where was this going? Had he lost it in the seven years she had been away?

Before leaving view of the cell, Trevor stopped, head bowed, considering. When his eyes rose , he opened his mouth, paused, considering.

"I don't know what this is," he paused again, weighing his words, then launched on. "But it's good to see you." The sort-of smile returned. Aeon could only stare.

With that being said, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Haunt 9**

**I don't think this'll bring the rating beyond a T, but if you feel otherwise please message me.**

**-XXX-**

When he disappeared from her view, the vision returned of a receding figure. It was different, but the primary person was the same, exactly. Aeon blinked. The lights faded, glass turning to stone once more. The corner creaked. She turned to see dinner, presented neatly with a small glass of water. She ignored the food. It was, doubtlessly drugged. No need to make it easy for them.

After nearly an hour, she got curious. The water, at least, had to have something in it. It would be better for the Monicans to know than not, so she tilted her head back. Magnifying her vision, she peered into the glass. Yes, there they were-pink particles, just waited to infect someone. She took a sample, hiding it in her heel, then returned the glass to its shelf.

It struck her that things were missing. Her gun, naturally, but a necklace she kept tucked around her neck, hidden by her collar was gone too. It wasn't valuable by any means, merely a gift of sentimental value. A medallion Una gave her, long ago. A compass rose.

"So you'll always find your way back. You have some wanderlust," her sister had explained. "To remind you to always come home, Aeon."

Home didn't quite mean the same thing anymore. It was Una. And now, her last symbol of that was gone. Stupid, really, but Aeon felt remorse anyways.

Thinking of that reminded her of another piece of jewelry-her ring. The magnetized dots. Oh, she could hit herself for forgetting. She'd scattered them on her way to the forum, why hadn't she thought to call them till now? Taking a breath, Aeon positioned herself beneath the grate to whistle three notes. A few minutes of waiting, and she could hear the distinct roll of over a hundred gun-metal coloured little balls. Like scattered marbles.

"Good boys," she cooed before pulling away from the wall. Five, four, three…

And suddenly, the wall was gone. An alarm sounded, shrill and harsh. Aeon ran.

**-XXX-**

She didn't do what any wise person would do; flee the capitol. Hundreds of Trevor's men were searching for her. To dawdle could mean certain death, but she was curious. For the remainder of the day, Aeon remained inside the walls, lying low. Until evening. That was when Claudius would be watering in the greenhouse.

Una had been tempting, but that would be an obvious move. So, she went to a less-obvious location to speak to her future brother-in-law. Claudius was less-than-enthusiastic to see her, which was to be expected. He'd since formed a mild dislike toward Aeon since she had abandoned Una to the capitol. It took some convincing before he would be willing to help her.

Passing over the vial, he said shortly, "It's a message."

"Well, what does it say?" She was impatient.

"You have to drink it. That's how it works."

Aeon accepted the vial.

"What are you really doing here Claudius?...working? For Trevor Goodchild?"

"I know what you're going to say," he warned her. "But I don't think it's Trevor's fault. Trevor is trying to help. Something is _wrong _with us, Aeon. With everybody."

"What do you mean?"

"You have the dreams, don't you? Memories of things that never happened to you. Visions?"

She didn't answer, but waited, listening.

"Una had them. I have them. It's happening all across Bregna. To everyone."

"What is it?"

Claudius let out an exasperated breath. He'd asked himself that question a hundred thousand times. "I don't know. They only tell us what we need to know." He looked to the plant he'd been tending. "My work is a small part of a bigger experiment."

"Whose experiment?"

"Trevor's. We're studying what's growing outside of the wall."

She was surprised. The Monicans had no notion. Outside of the wall was a barren, cruel land. What good could come of it?

"_But that's what they've always told you."_

"When they cured the industrial disease, something happened. Something else sprung up in its place. We're sick. And Trevor's trying to cure us. That's all I know."

With that, they shared a long look before Aeon passed along good wishes for his coming marriage, and love to be shared with Una. Claudius graciously accepted both. It did not need to be said that he was to tell no one of his knowledge of Aeon. No need to press the issue-Una would probably skin him at the mere thought.

"I love her," he said solemnly. "You know that."

"And so do I." Aeon leveled with him. "Thank you, for taking care of her while I…thank you."

**-XXX-**

At nightfall, she crept into the living quarters. From her hiding spot she could see the courtyard, the water surrounding the chairman's house, lights from Una's room, and a cold, silent door where her own room used to be. For a time she waited, fingering the vial. It called to be drunk. Aeon closed her eyes, and made the decision.

In an instant, her skin boiled. Trevor's voice echoed through her head, low and rich and soothing. Flashes of him, in the middle of his bedroom, spun through her mind.

"Aeon."

She writhed.

"I'm sorry for you pain. It's not safe to talk in the open. Nothing is as it seems." He was being serious, while she wanted to laugh at his dramatic phrasing-that is, if her head wasn't reeling. "You had your chance, why did you hesitate?" A pregnant pause. "You know where to find me."

No _"I want to talk." _Just, "_You know where to find me." _The question was, did she want to see him? Seven years, seven long years of ache. Did she want to see Trevor?

As she ran, the visions halted her mind. What had Claudius called them? Memories. They flickered through her vision, haunting imagines of a figure walking away, a…man. Yes, she was certain of it. A man.

The face was blurred, out of focus, but then there it was.

_Trevor. _

A half-awake, drowsy and smiling Trevor. Snowy pillow beneath his head, hands clasped to hers, eyes crinkling with delight. Trevor. Undeniably Trevor.

Getting into the house, then his room, was no problem. She stepped into the circular bedroom with great caution. He had his back to her, staring straight ahead. Aeon swallowed. As if he sensed her, Trevor half-turned.

"Why am I here?" she ground out.

He was disappointed that she shied away from him still. She had grown bold, yes, but when it came to him she kept a solid distance, her wariness tangible. He wanted to reach out, take her in his arms, make her swear to never leaving the capitol again. Or, at least, make her never _want_ to leave him again. She was a woman now, a fact that was well emphasized by her body-contouring suit. An adult in every sense of the word. He couldn't see Aeon his niece now, only Katherine, only his wife, only someone he so desperately wanted to love. For a brief moment he stared, allowing himself the pleasure of her visage. Oh, how he had waited for this, waited for her to match him and let him know it.

"I needed to see you again." His voice was low, nearly unfamiliar to both sets of ears in the room.

The young woman circled the room, a predator circling her prey. Trevor matched her step-for-step.

"You're foolish. Making an appointment to see your would-be assassin."

"I am sorry, Aeon," he said honestly. "But I don't regret any of it. I would have you again, if I could. I would take you now. I said it before, and I'll say it now, I love-"

"Stop," she commanded, and he did. "This is not about us. People are dying, people you're killing. It needs to end."

"And killing me will save the problem?" His eyes were liquid. "People die, Aeon. It is the way of things. I am sorry you've been hurt, I'm sorry I left you out there-"

"No," she hissed. "_I _left _you."_

Trevor shook his head. "Do you think there was ever a time I could not pluck you from that hole-in-the-wall? Ever a day I couldn't single you out of a city of five million? No, I let you be. I left you to them. Oh, and how they took you in. Do you truly think those deaths are my doing, Aeon?"

"I know they're-"

"Aeon. Do you think I would do that?"

His eyes drew her in. She shook her head, trying so hard to fight him off.

"How can I know? This is your city, and people are missing. They die. They disappear. What is happening to us?" she whispered. "You are supposed to do something."

"I am," he told her gravely. "All that I can. But…there are forces working against me. This is a war, Aeon. People will die. Sometimes, I don't always call the shots. And sometimes, I don't always know the casualties. Aeon, I didn't bring you here to discuss that."

"Then why? Why me?"

"You're involved," he said simply. "Now, apparently, my sworn enemy. No matter. I love you, Aeon."

"I don't believe you."

This disappointed him. "I am sorry. I should have waited, let you come to me. You loved me too, in your own way. Had I the patience…but no. And now, well…you're darker, Aeon. Something has hurt you very much. I pray it isn't me, but I have a feeling…" he examined her carefully. "You've done this to yourself."

They had reached a full circle now. Aeon's gun between them, on the bench. They both eyed it. She watched as Trevor offered it to her.

"I don't need that to kill you."

"I know. But it would be easier," the chairman reasoned. "Wouldn't it?"

She loathed his all-knowing attitude, the set of his mouth, his voice, his everything. Her hand shot out, pulling the gun out of its holster and pressing it into his clavicle, all without a blink.

Trevor did not appear the least bit slighted by her attitude nor her actions. "Everything changed when I saw you. You _know _me, Aeon. And I know you."

"You raised me. Of course I know you."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. The dreams…memories…you have them?"

She was faint. "Yes."

Oh, but she still didn't see. Frustration rose. He surged upon her."Why did you come back? What do you want from me?"

"What do I want? I want to remember what it feels like to be a person." She advanced on him, gripping his shirt. "I want a life again. Not a duty. Not any assignment. No purpose. Just a life. So tell me how to get that, Trevor."

Aeon was suddenly blinded. The visions, back. A man. A figure. Walking away. Blurry. She shoved the chairman away, breath labored.

"Aeon." He came to her, gentle.

"Why do I feel this way around you?" the young woman backed away, disoriented, shaking her head. Claudius had said memories. From what? Of what? Nothing she was seeing was familiar.

Her back hit the wall. A figure, dark and blurry, descended upon her. Hands came up to her neck, stroking the fine hairs. She gasped when the chairman came into view fully. Concern flooded his gaze. Aeon attempted to move away, but found that her legs were refusing most orders. Somehow she managed to reverse their positions so that it was he who was pressed against the wall, not her. For a second, they stared at one another as though barely understanding their own actions.

They could never be sure who moved first, whether it was him or her. But it was certain that soon they were embracing. Trevor worshiped her skin with his mouth, murmuring words so lightly. Her skin hummed with nervous impulses. Her hands sought to touch everywhere, running fingers across his back, chest, through his mussed locks.

One moment they were kissing. The next, he had scooped her up and was carrying her across the room to his bed. She landed with a bounce. He gave her little time before his lips were on hers once more, then he was lowering himself onto the mattress, body coverings hers, pressing himself against her. Aeon arched her hips without thinking, finding a swell of flesh to meet her. She shivered. Sensing apprehension, Trevor gripped her hips, thrusting them to meet his pelvis, grinding into her mercilessly. He pulled away from her mouth to give attentions to her jaw, neck, collarbone while Aeon writhed helpless beneath him.

Surprisingly, he did not require much help in removing her clothing. As soon as a new piece of skin was bared, he caressed it, kissed the flesh. Beneath him, Aeon struggled to remove his jacket and pants. He laughed at her, but helped nonetheless. Once done with that particular task, she lay nude, already a little weary. He sat back to look her over.

"I have waited a long time for this day," he murmured, running a single finger down the length of her side.

Aeon watched him, silent. When he was finished, she sat up and pushed him down against the pillows. Straddling him, she pressed another kiss against his jaw. And they began.

**-XXX-**

**AfternoonSnack, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have my reasons, though, and some logic coming, I promise. And I am so grateful for your feedback! **


	10. Chapter 10

When she woke, disoriented, Aeon froze, attempting to discern where she was. The sound of another's breathing and the feel of sheets against her bare skin were subtle clues. She felt someone next to her shift, and she sat up quickly. A hand brushed her back. Aeon whipped around, on the defensive, but was stopped. _"Trevor."_

She didn't relax-she couldn't afford to. Instead, Aeon blinked, trying to remember what had transpired since she entered this room. Flickers of images, blurred memories, buzzed about her head unpleasantly. She shifted through them, trying to find something concrete. All that stood out was Trevor's face, over and over in a thousand different ways.

Apparently her expression was enough to send her bedmate into a small panic. Trevor sat up, cupping her cheek, eyes anxious. When her gaze failed to focus on him, he began soft soothing noises, stroking her hair. Aeon blinked heavily, feeling weighed down by the visions. It took almost five minutes for her to regain some semblance of full consciousness. Finally focusing properly, she stared into the chairman's eyes. Uncertainty met her.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered. "Why does this keep affecting me?"

"What are you seeing?"

Her hands found him, but not of her conscious will. _"You. _I keep seeing _you."_

His grip tightened. "Are you with me?"

"Sometimes…I think. I don't know."

He lay down and pulled her to him, placing her head against his chest. Once settled, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Aeon. I don't mean to cause you pain."

She drew back. "It's you doing this?"

From where he lay, he watched her with keen eyes. "Indirectly."

For several minutes they sat in silence. Aeon glanced about the room, absorbing the changes that had occurred since she left. The desk had less clutter, surprisingly. There were no flowers of plants-a change. His favourite abstract canvas was gone, or at least removed to be hung elsewhere, replaced with several framed prints of her, Una, and himself. Oren was even in one, their second-to-last family portrait. In that one they all appeared stiff and carefully groomed. Aeon's hair had been released from its plait, and was sleek and shiny. Another picture, much older, of the day they played in the fountain in the court yard. It had been so hot when Trevor caught them out there-they weren't typically allowed to swim in the capitol fountains, but he'd let them just for that day. When he first approached in his long stride, face impassive, still wearing his usual coat even though it was burning outdoors, the girls had been scrambling to find some kind of excuse. But then he began removing his jacket, shoes and socks, and rolling up his pantlegs. They'd had so much fun that day. In the photo Trevor appeared soaked with a tiny Una perched on his shoulders and a less-tiny Aeon being held in place for the photo against his chest. They were all smiling or laughing.

The final photo was of Aeon. Simply Aeon. Her and no one else. It was entirely unfamiliar to her. She sat, hair braided in a thick rope, against one of the columns that lined their court yard. Book in hand, she had been entirely focused on the text, having not the slightest idea that her picture was being taken.

Looking at it now, she decided she looked…pretty. Not beautiful, or elegant. Just pretty. Nice. Happy.

Aeon startled herself when she realized that while musing over the photos, she had actually stepped out of bed and crossed the room, and that she was standing in front of the wall where their pictures hung. Glancing back at Trevor reclining in bed, she wondered when the picture had been taken. She didn't look much older than nineteen, possibly eighteen. Right before she left, then.

And then, suddenly, the picture changed. She was about the same age, sitting back in one of the forum's velvet seats, eyes bright, feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of her. Aeon stared. She must have been watching one of Trevor's speeches.

Thirteen more times the photo changed, each shot taken without her knowledge. In each she looked at least vaguely happen. She was over the age of sixteen in every one. There were even a few from her life outside of the capitol.

"It changes when it knows it's being watched. Trevor had followed her. When she turned her head to look at him, his chest brushed her back. "I told you. I could've brought you home any time I wanted."

"All this time, you've been watching me."

"No," he admitted. "There were months you were off the grid. I wanted you to have some privacy. I simply kept an eye out for you. The only times I ever saw you it was by chance."

"Trevor…." She turned to him, staring up. He gazed back.

"I would have done whatever you asked of me, Aeon. But you left. I couldn't bear to see you further hurt."

Trevor lifted her hands, kissing the knuckles. "Even when you were conspiring against me, mind."

She had to laugh at that. So she did, before growing somber.

"What now?"

"You'll stay here." He was earnest. "You need protection now. The Monicans-we can keep you safe."

Aeon shook her head. "It isn't that easy."

"It could be."

Suddenly weary, Aeon fell into him, burying her head in his chest. "No. It really isn't."

They agreed to continue the discussion in the morning. He would cancel all appointments. She would see Una. With some planning, they would be fine. They would be a family again-with a few roles altered. He promised.

As dearly as Trevor wished it to be true, Aeon knew it simply wasn't possible. If she were a traitor to the Monicans (and of that she wasn't even sure, she could still return) then protection would be necessary, yes. But capitol protection? After all, she had broken in. She knew others that might as easily do the same. The bottom line came down to a single thought: staying endangered Trevor and it endangered Una. The Monicans knew of Una. Even if she removed herself from the capitol after her wedding, Aeon's younger sister would still be at risk. The rebels were not above retribution. Not by a long shot.

The solution was simple: Aeon had to go.

As soon as she could hear Trevor's even, heavy breathing, Aeon slipped from the bed. She put on her close, returned her gun to its holster, zipped up her boots. Crossing the room, something caught her eye and she looked back. The photo frame that changed had stopped on a picture that stopped her heart. The day in the forum, when they'd danced. The photo was frozen on the exact moment he'd dipped her for messing up his hair. The expression on both of their faces was something akin to ecstasy, bliss. Intense, bright. One of her hands was slung around his neck, the other touching his cheek. They both appeared happy. Healthy. Brilliant.

Aeon reached up to touch the frame, throat closing.

That was when the floor opened in the center of the room, stairs sliding out loudly. Aeon spun on her heels. Thankfully, Trevor slept through the noise. She crept forward to gaze into the impenetrable darkness below. All she could make out were stairs and black. Thinking it to be the better of two evils- - - exiting the way she had previously come, or walking down into a giant black pit beneath the chairman's bedroom- - - Aeon headed down.

Lights flicked on, and she was greeted with a nice formal study. Books lined on wall, complimented with sleek lamps, armchairs and a polished ladder used for higher shelves. A desk stood as the primary focus of the opposite wall, a series of the Goodchilds behind it. Aeon examined each face. If she didn't know better, she would say they were each the same person. But the clothing some of the figures were depicted in were simply un-Trevor. Old fashioned.

She found both exits, but hesitated before choosing one. At the second, she came across the starfish belt. It slunk onto her with a snap, and in her rush to figure it out, Aeon pressed the center button. Her vision altered, leading her to a stark white, sterile laboratory.

Beakers, vials, and drip tubes lined the counters and shelves. There were no notes, but a small recorder. She pressed the "on" switch. What came out was Trevor's rich tones, speaking of test subjects, failures, and potential common factors. Aeon switched it off as she further investigated the room. She pocketed the recorder. There was still much to be listened. She turned back to the room at large, stopping every so often to examine a particular specimen or piece of equipment.

In a setting of white and glass, it stood out quickly. Tucked between two beakers, she found the small photo.

It wasn't her. At least, it wasn't her now. The hair was long, as it had been in her youth. But the Aeon in the photo was significantly older than the Aeon looking at the picture. Besides that, the photo was old, curling at the edges. It had been held many times. And she had a notion by whom.

Taking the starfish off, Aeon made her decision. Tucking the picture in her sleeve, she started for the circular door.

But before she would step through, a sound from behind caught her attention. Aeon spun.

Freya had been waiting for her, gun at the ready.

The assistant's eyes grew wide with recognition. "Aeon."

The Monican did not move. She waited, eyes equally wide. "I was just leaving."

"What are you doing….?"

The door was opening. Aeon shot through, dashing from the room. Freya made to follow, but the flower was shutting just as she reached it. Aeon shot it once in the center, killing the in-line power and shutting it down. And then she ran.

**-XXX-**

The Relicle. It was a monument. A testament. A symbol.

And something more, according to Trevor's data.

He'd mentioned it several times, in passing, as he recorded his notes.

Aeon entered expecting nothing. She had no preconceived notions, merely curiosity. Maybe, just maybe their salvation lay in the floating monument. She had betrayed her people, her friends. Something had to be there. It must. Because, if not, then she was wrong. Wrong to issue a betrayal.

She did find something-the old man, the keeper of The Relicle. He spoke to her of city, the people, of its past. Of her parents.

Just a few words. Enough to make her curious. So, she looked up her mother's name- - - Adrina Flux- - - and found a entire list of women. A flood of pictures. And another name- - - -Sasha Prillo. It took Aeon all of two seconds to understand. Then another three to make up her mind. She located an address. She ought to reach the house by morning.

**-XXX-**

**Okay, so we get some creepin' going on. There have been a few minor plot changes, to allow for...stuff. In this context, I just don't see Aeon choking him out. And with Una still alive, things have become difficult, so I had to use her madre. We can assume that all other events of the film are basically the same-nothing alters much from the original plot, unless I mention it in the story-text.**

**Quick disclaimer, all dialogue from the movie is...from the movie...and therefore doesn't belong to me.**

**Please review! Love me some feeback! And I just graduated...think of it as a gift? Huh?**


	11. Chapter 11

Haunt 11

**So I switched some things up. Una isn't dead (yet), but I had to have someone close to Aeon dead. I worked with what I got. **

**-XXX-**

"She was here."

"Yes," the old man said.

Trevor bent down, curious. "What was she looking for?"

"Nothing specific," the old man wheezed. "But I fixed that quickly."

Surprised, the chairman asked, "Whatever for?"

The answer was simple. "She needs to know, Trevor."

It was a fair point, the chairman had to admit. But not so fair that it directed him to where she might've gone. He woke to find his bed empty, Freya at his bedside, looking like she'd seen a ghost. Or, a missing person returned. Aeon, in his study? He was proud of her ingenuity in finding it, but he did wish maybe she hadn't. Or, at least had the decency to wait till morning.

She left something of a trail, though. His recorder was the only thing missing. Besides, of course, the photo. In his mind he hoped he'd misplaced it. In his heart, he wished it were she that took it.

So, to The Relicle he went.

"What did she find?"

"Her mother…."

With that, the fellow disappeared, evaporating into other parts of the machine. Trevor turned to the glass strands, stroking them and asking, "Adrina Flux."

It was only after that when he developed a curiosity in one of his test subject-Klarien Heartly-who had died. He'd not known it was in police action until that night. He had no idea that all other subjects-all fifty-were women that had died at the hands of his guardsmen. Oren had said they were failures.

"Who ordered this?"

His fists clenched.

A simulated voice responded briskly. "All actions authorized by adjut-chairman Oren Goodchild."

**-XXX-**

"You cloned her."

"I cloned everybody." It was his first time saying aloud. He closed his eyes. If he were to pick his confessor, Aeon would be the last person on the list. But she had to know.

"There was a complication when we cured the industrial disease. The vaccine had an unintended side effect. Sterility. Only one more generation of our species could survive. It was a desperate time. Cloning had never been done on humans successfully. But we succeeded." He swallowed. She had yet to look at him, yet to turn, to face him.

"Now, when a person dies their DNA is recycle. Oren and I built The Relicle to store DNA and conceal the cloning process. The keeper finds a suitable couple and using food additives we induce a pregnancy. When the woman comes in, we implant a cloned embryo. From there things happen naturally." Trevor closed his eyes. Everything of the last four hundred years ran through his head, a long picture of regret. "In nine months a citizen who died is reborn. Your mother took longer-I requested it. For Una's sake, least they meet when she might still remember.

"For seven generations Oren and I have cloned ourselves, taught ourselves so I could keep trying to find a cure. While we all live on."

Aeon finally spoke. "That's what we are? Copies."

"We are more than that," he assured her. She had to know. Had to see that people were unique, not matter how many times their DNA was revived.

"It wasn't supposed to be permanent. I've been trying to cure the infertility. Aeon, I would love to have a son or daughter that was born free. I don't want any of this. But…I can't. My tests have been failures, every group."

He paused. "Excepting, perhaps, the last one. All members were killed by guardsmen, our police."

She turned to him, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oren," he whispered. "Lied to me. Said they all failed. And then he ordered their deaths. He killed all of the subjects."

Aeon and Oren had never gotten along. Ever since the beginning, for some vague unknown reason, or for some event no one in the family could recall, Oren had a distinct dislike for the eldest niece. She shared the contempt. They loathed one another, yes, but Aeon could not imagine he would do something like this. Kill fifty people. Fifty.

"Why?"

"They were pregnant."

Aeon stared. She pulled the baby, little Sasha, closer to her. The child gurgled.

"Oren has changed. He doesn't want to go back. He doesn't want a cure."

She turned. In the sunlight, holding the child on her hips, eyes bright, Trevor could truly see his wife. He felt his throat close. Aeon didn't notice, though, she was looking at the babe.

"He wants to live forever," she said darkly, eyes meeting his.

Trevor hated to think of it. "Yes," he agreed, equally dark. "That's it exactly."

**-XXX-**

Even in a time so bleak, it amused him to no end that she highjacked a baby. They returned the cheery and plump Sasha to her parents, Aeon pressing one more kiss to the child's head, murmuring lowly some sort of luck. "She'll be a handful," she assured the new parents with a small smile.

Taking her elbow, Trevor said in a low rumble, "We should go. It won't take Oren long to find us."

"He'll be coming for us." It was not a question, merely a spoken-aloud confirmation of some realization Aeon had only just faced.

Almost as soon as she had said it, the window broke. After urging the family out, the pair faced the detonation.

Thrown backwards though the baby's room, Trevor blinked away sheet rock , pushing glass chips from his coat. Disorientation was set firmly in, but he managed enough balance and coordination to pick up the gun he'd dropped. He found Aeon through the dust, and they ran to the window of the baby's room.

A group of the capitols most heavily armored guardsmen were there to greet them. Aeon was quick to climb up the trellis, whipping her gun from its holster and picking off men left and right. But her partner was not nearly so nimble. He was forced to run behind columns, ducking as best he could.

Until he was clipped in the shoulder, he was doing fine. Trevor let out one ragged cry when he fell. Aeon was too high to notice, or perhaps she did and was simply disciplined enough to push it from her focus. He would like to think she'd care. Grunting, he pushed himself back up, lifting his gun. He should have known, those twenty years ago, what a trouble she would be. Just like Katherine.

He watched as she took a piece of glass and physically cut into the men, downing all in the garden before cutting herself. Then, she stooped to the bodies for the explosives they carried on their belts.

Several explosions, a lot of running, limping, jumping and climbing later they found rest. They sank onto the cool concrete, breath labored, thankful for just a moment. Trevor let the moment sink in before saying, "We need to get the bullets out."

Aeon instantly turned to him. So she hadn't been hit. _"Thank the gods." _The biggest injury she had was that cut to her hand. She had wrapped it on the trolley. Now, it was onto his wounds.

Clearly, she had removed some bullets before. Just, not from people like him, who weren't used to being shot. She was not gentle. Trevor writhed as she worked the leaded pieces from his shoulder and back. Had she ever been shot before? Perhaps not-if she had, she might've been gentler. Still, concern coloured her eyes. She did not look happy about the situation.

"Did any of them manage to miss you?"

It reminded him of how young she was. He stared up, dazed as the medipatches sizzled into his bloodstream, furthering his clotting factors and acting as painkillers. The wounds grew dull. He moaned lightly when she rolled him over.

Then she was laying beside him.

"We might have to go outside of the wall."

Trevor winced. "I know."

"But first I have to end this."

"I have to go back in. I need to get my notes from the last test group. Oren will find my lab and destroy it." He turned to his side. "Everything I've done…."

Frustration passed over her features. She stood without a word. Trevor followed, also silent.

**-XXX-**

The outpost managed to get them into the labyrinth of catacombs that ran beneath the city, into the capitol and citadel. Luckily, Trevor spent a good deal of his childhood down there, learning the system-well, one of his incarnations had. He knew the way back, and in less than an hour they were approaching his laboratory/library. Every so often, he looked back over his shoulder. Trevor was not proud of his paranoia, but if it kept them alive he would not complain.

As their journey progressed, however, Aeon became quieter. She was never much one for talking as it was-that was his part in their balance-but it became sorely missed. Soon, Trevor was silent too, waiting for her to halt her musings and speak to him.

"We're getting closer."

"Wait," she called softly as he surged forward. The chairman stopped short, then turned back to her, curious. Under any other circumstance he would give her a world of time. But now, they were running on the short hairs of luck. He was growing impatient.

Aeon watched him with wary doe-eyes. She looked nervous, for whatever reason. At first she opened her mouth as though intending to say something, but then she seemed to shake herself out of it, instead choosing to pull a small photo from her sleeve.

_"Katherine."_

For a brief second, Trevor stared at her face in the picture. A different time. A different woman. He needed to stop comparing them. Then, he looked to Aeon. She appeared, as Una might say, "freaked out," eyes wide and pale. He made the decision to move on. Ignore it. Move forward and-

"Trevor."

But of course, she was not about to let him.

He stopped because it was her, and he could deny her nothing. Not even a look at his raw pain.

Four hundred years, and he still felt every benefit of loss. Oh, every inch of him ached.

Aeon went on, hesitant. For one usually so brave, this question seemed to use all of her resolve to pose. "The name you called me…."

His spine froze. Enunciating carefully, swallowing frustration, he answered the unspoken question. "Katherine."

"That was my name." It wasn't a question. Not exactly.

Then he turned back. Then he said it, spoke aloud what had haunted him for four hundred years, seven generations, the last two decades of raising Aeon.

"You were my wife." His voice was flat. "We had a life together. Just like everybody else."

_"No. Not like everybody else. Katherine was extraordinary."_

He looked away, and moved forward.

But she wouldn't let him.

"Wait," Aeon pleaded. She had followed. "You need to tell me."

Trevor stared down at her. "I lost you during the disease, and then you couldn't be brought back. I have lived and died seven times since then. And each time I taught myself about you. An idea kept alive. Something I had to imagine."

His hands rose to stroke her neck, toy with her cropped inky hair. "But when I saw you…what I felt was real. I _knew _you. I _remembered _you. What we had then survived in us-past death, past everything. When your parents passed…did I ever tell you? I saw you, before, when you were a child. Just months from your parent's death. You and Una. I saw you and…I knew. Without a doubt. So, I had you watched. When your parents died, I took you in. I had to take you in. Even though I loved you, wanted you for myself, I knew that I was the only one who could. So you and Una came to me. Do you remember? We've never been related, not in this life nor any others."

"I-I was looking for you," Aeon said quietly.

Trevor smiled. "I've been waiting."

"_400 years. 146, 000 days. 20, 857 weeks. And twenty more years." _

"We were different people…."

"We were," he agreed.

"Those people are gone."

"But something in them came back."

"Yes," she breathed eyes to the ground. "Yes. I…remember."

Then he kissed her. Long and hard, thankfully. In a world of second chances, he was finally, finally getting his. When he pulled back, Aeon's nose was wrinkled. She frowned.

"Do you smell something burning?"

**-XXX-**

His notes, gone. His life's work, gone. The data, gone. And Freya….

Oren would pay. Pay for all of this.

**-XXX-**

**This took a looong time. Start-stopping and then going back through the particular scenes to not only get the words, but the manner in which they were said and actions along with them was quite an effort. **

**Reviews would be lovely! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Haunt 12**

Ash greeted them, along with the scent of destruction. From the air, Trevor snagged a fleck of paper. It was burnt along the edges, still burning, in fact. He quickly recognized the handwriting as his own.

"No!"

He thought that had been in his head, but it cried it aloud. Surging forward, he rounded the second-to-last corner to his lab. The smoke was heavier, and more burnt paper and ash shifted through the air. Covering his face with one hand, Trevor ran. Aeon was on his heels, holding back. This was his work, his lab. He needed to see.

His study-laboratory was a fiery hole. The blossom door was completely destroyed. The ground outside smoldered, and in the wake of its smoke lay a figure.

"Freya," he moaned. Stooping immediately to check for a pulse, he allowed for hope. But it was soon dashed away. She was gone.

"It's gone," he said, stepping away from the body. "I had cured it…" He kept his back to her, staring into the hole that was once his life's work. "I had found the answer. It's all gone."

Only then did he look back to her.

Aeon had kept quiet as her companion grieved. She understood—in her time with the Monicans, many of her fellows had passed on. There wasn't always time to properly honor the fallen. They didn't exactly have time at the moment, either, but she waited, knowing there was no need to give Oren a few sitting ducks. _"That would only make his day." _He was moving quickly.

Though it pained her, she had to urge that they move on. "Let's go. We've got to move.

And so they ran.

They were slower than before. Pain, mingled with stress and weariness, held them both back, but Trevor especially. Aeon's silicone skin patches' pain relief was wearing off. Trevor's torso ached. He didn't say a word, didn't complain or even move to mention his soreness. But Aeon could see it in the sheen glossing his eyes. She didn't have much to offer, so she kept silent.

Aeon took the lead from there, darting from tunnel to tunnel until she reached the same ladder she'd used before.

Together, they rose to the surface of the capitol. Trevor blinked in the light-he'd been dazed, not caring where they went. But now that they were here-

"There's still one thing left to do."

He disagreed. "There is nothing left to do. You and I need to get out of here." He caught her arm. Aeon stared ahead, eyes set and locked. "We'll go outside the wall, we'll find a way to live."

"There's one more thing to do," she whispered. "I need to destroy it."

And then he understood. _The Relicle. _

"No!"

She kept up her stride.

"This isn't the answer, Aeon. There is no guarantee I can find the cure again He took her arm again, knowing he had to stop her, this couldn't be how it ended. She could end them. Destroy their species. "The cloning is all we have."

"It's not enough!" She spun to face him. "Our minds are unraveling, and every time you bring us back it gets worse."

"If you do this, we end," he told her tersely. He loved her, but for the sake of five million people, he would stop her. He would. As chairman, he needed to protect them. Even if that mean protecting them from her.

"We're meant to die," said Aeon seriously. Her eyes were sad-she took no pleasure in this. "That's what makes anything about us matter."

He reached into the unfathomable depths of her eyes. Somewhere, in there, it made sense. Perhaps it was four hundred years of living weighing on his shoulders, but Trevor accepted this.

She moved away, continuing on. He followed, relatively speechless."Living like this is torture-we're just ghosts."

It was said so softly, he almost didn't catch it.

"That's not how I feel. Not now."

Aeon turned, eyes compassionate. For a moment, she looked at him, simply looked. Understanding was filling her, too.

And then she walked on, into the courtyard of cherry blossom trees.

Behind her, Trevor spoke. Anger overtook him, and he spoke sharply. "This is an empty gesture."

Aeon simply removed her weapon, prepping it for the task she was so set on accomplishing today. "It's a leap of faith."

"It's not for you to decide. Aeon," he commanded. It was time to be honest, time to tell her. _"Not yet…" _But it had to be done. Grave, he stood in her way, blocking The Relicle. "I don't want to lose you again."

"You don't have to," she answered softly. "You'll find the cure again.

She said it with such assurance, such calm compassion, that he nearly believed her. _"She believes in me. Trusts me to solve this."_

**-XXX-**

The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. That was the first thing she noticed, as they crossed the circular courtyard. She could remember, as a child, when spring came to an end and summer consumed, the petals of the dying pink-white flowers would scatter, littering the green grass. A beautiful sight. One see and Una looked forward to every year.

"It's over, Trevor."

The couple turned to see Oren and a fragment of the guard following him, splitting to circle the pair. Aeon had her gun at the ready as soon as she heard the _clink_ of weaponry. Apprehensive, she tilted her chin up-what he recognized as her _"Bring-it-on" _face, and expression primarily used in the presence of her younger uncle.

Oren's eyes darted between them. Hatred scanned Aeon over, then disgust upon seeing their obvious connection. They were together. Again. He was far from pleased.

"Oren,"

Trevor spoke. He commanded the center, quiet and understated as always. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's what needs to be done. What you should've done generations ago. This is not the solution."

"This is destruction." Trevor shook his head. "I don't understand. We've always been in this together. Oren, the cloning was a temporary solution. It was never meant to last forever, and it won't. People are already beginning to…decay. The cure is all we had. And now….

He drifted off.

"It goes so much deeper than your cure. Other women have been getting pregnant, naturally." Oren sneered. "Outside of your experiments. More and more of them. Una, for one. They yield themselves."

"Una?" Aeon breathed. "Claudius…and Una?"

He ignored her. Trevor paled.

"And you killed them, too?"

"Not Una," he said. "But I had to stop it.

"How many?" Trevor looked as though he didn't want to know the answer. "How many, Oren?"

"Doesn't matter," his brother said, lips set. "Nature has finally found a way."

Trevor peered at him concerned. _"This is madness."_

Oren went on. "Nature is the one whose obsolete. Not us.

Aeon couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her partner looked to the ground, praying for the sake of his brother, that there might be some forgiveness in whatever afterlife he ended up in. Trevor shook his head, pained by what his sibling said.

"How can you not understand the beauty?"

Trevor tried a different subject. Aeon watched as the guard tensed, readying stances. They were trapped. Surrounded. By more than just guards, too. A shimmer on one of the towers caught her eye. Monicans.

"You…told me she was gone."

They both knew he wasn't referring to Aeon Flux.

Oren's cool eyes swung to his niece, filling with an immense dislike. It made sense to her now, why he'd always hated her so. It was nothing she'd done, personally. At least, not in this life. But now, apprehension crossed his gaze. Fear of her-or of Trevor, who had been devastated by the loss? Even when protected by a legion of guards, he could still muster up some fright when it came to the immensely more-powerful Goodchild, Trevor.

"I ordered her DNA destroyed," he admitted.

Trevor stared, not speaking. Oren approached, hissing, "You were a different man with her, Trevor. She would've have destroyed everything you'd done. Like she's stopping you now"

"No, Oren."

"Yes!" he insisted. "This world, our world, is beautiful. I knew the moment you brought her here, back to us, that she would corrupt you. And I was right. She's with _them _now, the Monicans. Those who have openly declared their intent to destroy you, us, everything we ever built or stood for. Don't you see? This, Bregna is worth preserving, at any cost."

"_Monicans." _She counted four. Surrounding them. "_What to do….?"_

Trevor was speaking. "It can't last. It's falling apart.

If she didn't do something soon, they would all be dead. Without another consideration, she looked directly into Sithandra's scope, right into her eyes, telling her silently, _"I can see you." _She knew others we watching, but Aeon reached backwards to the lacings of her corset, pressing on her spine with the pad of one thumb.

"You're wrong in this, Oren."

"We've beaten death," Oren said. "Nature. We've gone beyond you. And now, I need to be free of you."

Incredulous, Trevor stared. _"Who is this man? This is not my brother..." _

Oren held his hand out. The guardsman on his left passed him a gun, an automatic they all carried. He opened it without flinching. All the while gazing coolly upon his elder brother.

"I'm sorry, Oren."

"I am too."

And then he was on the ground. Downed, by Sithandra's hand.

Petals scattered. Confusion ensured. Trevor watched as a guardsman stooped to his little brother, his mouth agape. Oren looked shell-shocked, though he lived Gunfire raged around them. Aeon ran. The trees rained pink-white petals everywhere. A snowstorm of flowers. Had the situation not been so dire, she might've thought them romantic.

If she had such thoughts, anyways.

The chairman fled as well, through the trees.

As she was clad entirely in black, Aeon was hard to pick out from the guards. He managed, though. _"Stay with Aeon…Aeon…Aeon…." _All those that came near them were picked off, shot down by an unseen force. _"Monicans?" _Miraculously, they went by unscathed, until one, using the cover of the trees, snuck pasted the Monicans to clip Trevor in the shoulder.

He plummeted to the ground, moaning as the lead sunk into his flesh. It wasn't a mortal wound-he would live. As soon as he reclaimed his senses, he rolled on to his back, eyes mad in his search for Aeon. She was still running, having missed his fall, or know better than to stop. He couldn't blame her. Grunting, he moved to kneel, then stand.

Flux slipped into the next courtyard, where any entirely new circle of guards awaited her on the rooftop. Engaging in hand combat with the nearest guards, she fought for their gun, and quickly began to pick off the others on the room of the capitol.

Soon, the roof and courtyard grounds were littered with the black bodies of capitol guards men.

She looked up to the tower where Sithandra was perched, smiling widely, darkly, proud. She felt her sister Monican smile, until, from the corner of her eye, she saw it. The missile. Marring their victory.

In her mind, Aeon felt her friend's fear, resignation then falling-falling-

_"Sithandra," _she whispered. Gone.

For several seconds, she was frozen, staring at the manicured lawn. Then a soft sound broke her focus. Trevor came into view. Bloody, tired, relieved Trevor, brightening just a little at the sight of her. Tears streamed her cheeks, black makeup surrounding her broken eyes, but she felt herself ease into a fraction of peace at the sight of him. But his expression had changed. He shifted quickly, throwing himself to the other entrance at Oren, who stood, ready with his reclaimed gun.

The brothers struggled for control. Just as Trevor overtook his sibling, a shot rang out. In the background, Trevor heard a thud. But he ignored it, focusing on the task at hand: preventing Oren from getting to Katherine.

They topple to the ground, both grunting and struggling for the weapon. Heated, punches were thrown. Kicks and thrusts, pounding flesh against flesh. Until Oren found himself and leveled the gun with his brother's heart.

No hesitation in his eyes. He would do it. He was going to do it-

When he fell back, Trevor felt both relief and sadness. His brother, his one link back to life before the disease, the man he'd shared the better part of four hundred and thirty years with, was gone. Gone as Freya was. As Katherine had been.

_"Aeon."_

She sat, quivering, in the center of the grass. The gun was still in her hand, raised. He swung his gaze around to her, eyes wide. She said nothing. Then he looked back to Oren.

Oren's gaze was wild. He moved his lips as if to speak, trying to sound out something. But then-he faded.

"Oren," Trevor whispered, touching his sibling's cheek.

After several seconds, he rose. Aeon was on her feet and crossing to him, limping. She clutched her side, sinking into him when he met her. Without a sound, she buried her face in his stomach, as she did as a child, breathing heavily. She didn't want to do it. Oren was still family. Her family. Their family. But she didn't cry-that was Trevor's right. His shoulders shook, chest quivered. But no tears were shed. Not at that time. He was too thankful. For a moment, they were together and alive and nothing more.

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted him to the arrival of the council. He murmured, "They're coming."

Aeon peeked out from beneath his arm. She straightened, rising with his help. Another noise caught their gaze.

The Relicle. They said nothing. Aeon stepped away, turning to go.

"Aeon," he called back to her, taking her arm. She looked at him. There was much he wanted to say, so much more than could be conveyed in a glance. But there wasn't time. An understanding passed between them.

_"Please. Please. Please be careful. Please don't injure yourself. Please don't die. Please, Aeon." _

She pulled away gently, stopping only once to collect a few explosives from a fallen guardsman, then passing through the doorway at the other end of the courtyard.

They went their separate ways. Hopefully, for the last time.

**We're nearing the end. Two more chapters, I think. We're following the movie moreso at this point...and let me tell you, getting it close to the motions of the movie hasn't been a picnic. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Haunt 13**

**Afternoon Snack: Heck yes. It might be a bit, but I accept your prompt. Thanks for the support!**

The climb took less time than before- - - she knew her way now. Upon entering the Relicle, she was met with silence. The Keeper was absent- - -or hidden.

She immediately set about setting up the explosives, attaching them at key points in the Relicle's structure. It was going down. There was no way around it. That's what she'd come here for.

When she placed her last pack, he appeared. She stood slowly. "You're the one who saved me."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," said the Keeper. "I knew you then. I knew you were important. I knew that I needed to protect you." He smiled. "I kept your DNA hidden, here. Dormant. I've waited until now to bring you back."

"Why?" She wasn't that important. She didn't matter much, in the grand scheme of things. Not really. But he seemed to think otherwise, and told her.

"I knew that your strength would survive with you." The old man nodded knowingly. "Changed needed to happen. I thought that if I brought you back you might reach Trevor. You always could. And I was right. You did."

Thinking of it now, she had started a change. The Monicans were the roots, honestly, the driving force, but had it not been her who had been selected to kill Trevor, had she not had the connection to him, he would've killed her as soon as she'd been caught, not locked her up in a cell. He wouldn've laced her water with a message, beseeching her to see him. She would not have visited the Relicle. He would not have been on the run from the council. The secret of cloning would have not been reviled. Oren would not have grabbed control.

"I have to end it," she told him, a little regretful.

"Yes," he agreed, smilingly slightly. "Start over."

A thought occurred to her. "What about you?"

"I've waited 400 years for this day. I'm tired."

She believed him. Aeon took his words as an excusal to go. She moved passed him.

"Stay alive, Aeon, you are needed," he said as a parting, serious words posing his message.

Throwing herself down the net, Aeon caught the tail of one of the netpieces just in time, sliding down carefully as the Relicle neared the ground. When it crashed into the wall, she released the tail and tumbled on the grasses, watching as stones, concrete flew hundreds of feet in the air before blacking out.

When she woke several minutes later, people were nearing the crashsite. Three women, Una among them (she had been in the marketplace when the flying machine began its decent, and had rushed to the scene as everyone else) kneeled over her. She was bruised, battered, but alive. Alive enough to give her baby sister crap about her pregnancy. Una blushed, but admitted the news. She was glad enough to share.

None would approach the world outside-a world with strange noises. The dark green floral swayed in time with the breeze. It was not the barren wasteland they had been told of. Aeon thought it was mysterious, deep, and reasonably pretty. She gazed upon the greenery as others moved passed her. They were nervous. Some, even a little frantic. One fellow, for instance, was darting through the crowd, calling out for-someone. She could make out a name. Whispers of Chairman Goodchild surfaced, but she was too preoccupied with the crumbled wall, and Una.

In the crowd, a hand found hers, and she was spun abruptly. Aeon was ready to deck the intruder, but she was cut off by the hand on her cheek and wildly concerned pair of hazel eyes. _"Trevor," _she realized.

"Aeon," he breathed. "I saw you on the Relicle. And I couldn't find you anywhere…I looked…."

Her mind flashed back briefly to the day in the park. Climbing the tree_." What if you had fallen? What would I have done then?..._ _I wouldn't have known what to have done with myself. Do you understand, Aeon?"_

"_More upset than you are now?"_

_A different kind of upset. More sad than angry. If anything were to happen….You are my life, you and Una. To see you hurt would break me."_

He didn't ask for permission. Merely kissed her, hard, on the lips. She let him, smiling against his mouth. They were alive. Together, and alive. The cloning was over. Una would have her baby, it would grow, and be an entirely new person. They were free. And alive.

When they broke apart, Trevor stared into her eyes, passion swelling. But Aeon looked to Una, who did not appear traumatized (as Aeon might've assumed) but rather pleased, and perhaps a bit smug. Assured that her sister wasn't cringing to death, Aeon looked back to her companion. He held out a hand. She accepted, her eyes drifting up from their combined limbs to Trevor Goodchild's eager eyes, which were asking so, so heavily, _"Is this okay?" _ She just squeezed his hand. _"Yes." _

He couldn't take his eyes from her.

Then she released him, walking toward the boarded. He stared after her, forlorn. Aeon made no indication that he should follow, so he stood back, letting her visually explore. Others approached with her.

For a moment, he was drawn back. Back to a time, nearly four hundred years ago, when he was leaving that coffee shop. Right after he met her. That girl. The girl he saw every morning. Ordering a chai, usually to go, and a hot croissant. Every day, the same time he picked up his Columbian blend.

She was so much younger than he was-young and beautiful and impossibly too good for him. As they left the shop to go their separate ways, he made a bold decision. He was usually reserved, so he opened his mouth, mustering up his might to call out.

"Hey. Katherine."

It was halting. His voice sounded stupid. But she turned nonetheless. So beautiful with those curtains, layers of thick dark hair, a creamy scarf wound around her neck.

"Will I see you again?" His voice shook. So, so nervous.

She laughed then, lightly, looking down. Smiling, she didn't answer, but walked on. He grinned, and turned to go too. He looked back once, the same time she did. Then, he knew he was positively in love with this girl. The rest of the day in the lab, he was on cloud nine. His supervisors scolded him twice, but he couldn't get his mind off of her. _Katherine. _

He couldn't get his mind off of her for the next four hundred years.

Aeon had stopped. The people of Bregna were hushed, uncertain. Trevor walked to her, slowly at first, then picking up speed. He took her hand up again, accepting that they needed work. That she didn't love him quite yet. That it might be some time, but he would have his wife, his life, back again. Aeon smiled softly.

And together, they gazed into the new world that lay beyond.

**My sole reviewer requested a follow-up based on Katherine and Trevor I. I thought the snippet of memory at the end might be a starting point? **

**Thank you for sharing this with me, I hope you're enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing this. **

**Reviews would still be great. Yeah. **


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